Losing Harry
by wherewolf
Summary: 15 year old Snape leaves Hogwarts to raise Lily's baby Harry. At the same time, he struggles with Lily's lack of affection, Dumbledore's apathy and Death Eaters. When he finds the truth behind Lily's well kept lies, he risks losing Harry forever.
1. Baby Daddy

"Evans throws the Quaffle to Potter who…Did Potter just lose his head to a Bludger? Aw, what a shame. It appears McElderry leaped in front of the Bludger to bat it toward the Slytherin Seeker, Crabbe."

As he watched the Quidditch game, Severus Snape leaned back in the announcer box, stretching his sore muscles until his bones popped.

"Snape," Professor McGonagall hissed from above him.

_Oh, the game_. "Potter just made a ridiculously easy shot but…missed! Lucky Evans was there to grab the Quaffle as it appears Potter can't manage to put…" He kept talking but his magically magnified voice stilled across the playing field. As the students spun around to stare at the box, Snape whirled viciously on Professor McGonagall.

"What--?" He froze.

She had her wand pointed at the magical microphone and her eyebrows were so drawn, they looked like one long line. Slowly, her pinched face unraveled. "You may keep your opinions about Potter to yourself, Snape."

"I was--"

His magnified voice exploded through the microphone and there was scattered laughter from the stands. Some of the students turned again to stare at Snape.

"It looks like Longbum—Excuse me, Longbottom—is on the trail of the Snitch." There was more laughter, but this time it was directed at Frank Longbottom, a nerdy Gryffindor who even Snape felt superior to.

Thud!

Something slammed into the side of Snape's head. Stars burst in front of his eyes and someone screamed.

"Severus!" someone else called frantically. It sounded like Lily Evans but her voice was growing further and further away.

He heard sounds: a creaky wheel, the rustle of clothes, clanking jars… On a Quidditch field? Forcing his eyes open, he saw Madam Pomfrey leaning over him. She smelled like peppermint and Blood-Replinishing Potion.

"Dear Severus."

No one ever called him 'dear.' Something horrible must have happened. Or maybe she had found out about his parents. It was easy to hide news about his parents' death from his teachers. Though his mum was a witch, she and Tobias had both lived and died in a Muggle town. Severus doubted Pomfrey cared enough to page through last year's obituaries, but if she was calling him 'dear', she must have found out he was orphaned.

"Dear, dear, boy, it was an accident."

Severus's lip curled. Of course his father had accidentally slammed the car into the tree.

She was still talking. What was she on about? "…then Crabbe threw the Bludger and it hit you in the head. Do you remember?"

Then Severus flushed, realizing why she was calling him a dear boy. He was in the hospital wing because he'd been hit in the head during a Quidditch game.

"Yes, I remember," he said stiffly in a vain attempt to mask his embarrassment at following the wrong train of conversation.

Pomfrey had already fluttered off to snag some potions off the shelf. From this distance, Snape had a hard time seeing her and watching her blurry shape wobble around made him queasy.

He closed his eyes.

"Here you go, dear. Swallow this."

Severus took the potion she shoved into his mouth. It stung and seemed to swell up when it reached his throat. He gagged but managed to swallow the potion.

"Very good. That will help more than you think." Poppy patted his hand. "Now go to sleep."

He awoke to someone pulling down his pants. He lifted a limp hand and tried to swat the intruder away.

"Wha-y'doin'?" he mumbled groggily.

"Shh."

He moved to grab his pants when a warm cloth swiped over his bare stomach.

"WHA-Y'DOING'?"

Now the person was coming into focus: Pomfrey, of course. She rubbed another cloth over his face. "You have a fever."

"But--"

She folded his pants and put a sheet over his bare skin. "You're sweating and you soaked through your clothes. Here's a clean robe. Sit up and put your arms out, dear."

Struggling to sit, he complied. His eyes felt heavy and he wanted to do nothing more than sleep.

"Madam Pomfrey?"

Lily! Severus tugged the robe over his head and stuffed his arms through the sleeves.

"Just a moment, Evans," Pomfrey said. "Snape is changing."

There was a pause on the other side of the curtain. "Into what?" she finally said. "A werewolf?"

Severus grinned as much as he didn't want to. He pretended to hate Lily's humor but her scribbled notes when the teachers' backs were turned made him happy through his most boring classes.

When Pomfrey had helped him into a new pair of underwear—he noticed her slip his gray, ripped underwear into the trash bin—she opened the curtain. "Be quick, dear. He needs his rest."

The stars that exploded in Snape's head were still there, but they were slower and happier, and he couldn't feel any pain. Wait a minute…didn't that mean…?

Snape almost cursed aloud. He hadn't meant to fall in love with his best friend. That was only supposed to happen to gits like James Potter.

She perched on the edge of his bed. "I'm not going to play Quidditch anymore."

The stars exploded behind his eyes again and this time it hurt like a polyjuice change. "You're the only reason I run commentary. You're going to quit?"

Lily smiled softly. "Maybe your Slytherin team might win if I stop playing against them."

Severus couldn't argue with that. "But you love it."

She hesitated. Severus had known her long enough to recognize she had something deeper on her mind. Something important.

"Does your quitting the team have to do with bloody James Potter?" he snapped.

Her cheeks bloomed like two roses and her voice was strained when she said, "What makes you think that?"

"You don't deny it."

She blew her hair off her forehead with a huff. "I don't like it when you're angry, Sev."

He flopped back onto his pillows, suddenly wearied. If he hadn't been nearly killed with a Bludger, he'd kick Potter's bum. "Then stop talking about that git like he's worth something. He hates both of us."

She turned redder.

"Lily, it's time for you to go," Pomfrey said, emerging from a back storage closet. "Severus has a fever and he's getting too worked up."

Lily extended her hand and let out a sigh. "I'll see you later, Sev. Maybe you'll see reason next time. I'm sorry you're hurt all the same."

Severus took her hand and squeezed it. Minutes later, when he fell asleep again, he could still feel the warmth of her hand tingling inside his.

Severus returned to classes a few days later. For a while, he was hailed as a hero, the fascinating Slytherin who took a Bludger to the head. When James Potter heard of Severus's celebrity status, he started poking fun.

"When Pomfrey prodded your head, did she find an empty skull?"

After Christmas break (where Snape spent a lonely month at Spinner's End), Potter's stupid friends joined in. "I'm surprised the Bludger didn't simply slide off your head with all that grease in your hair."

By the time O.W.L.s exams rolled around in May, the entire school seemed to have turned against him. Some even blamed Severus for throwing a Bludger at Crabbe. For his part, Crabbe defended Severus. That's why Severus didn't understand why Lily was so adamant against him befriending what she labeled the "evil" students.

Sure, they dabbled in Dark Magic but who was Severus to be choosy with his friends? It's not like he had many besides Lily.

And after the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, Severus had to question whether Lily was even his friend. Sure, he'd called her Mudblood, the foulest name a wizard could call a witch of Muggle parentage. But what would she have said if James Potter was threatening to take off _her_ underpants?

Actually, he shuddered at the thought of that.

But if Potter had embarrassed her in front of the entire school and someone had come to her rescue, she might have lashed out at the rescuer. It wasn't Severus's fault he'd called her a Mudblood. It had slipped out in misdirected anger.

Two days after the incident, when he was sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast, he felt her warm arms wrap around him.

"Severus, I need to talk to you."

He forked a pancake into his mouth. "Now?"

Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill over her eyelashes. Was she ever gorgeous.

Severus ducked out of the Great Hall. Goyle, one of his Slytherin friends, whooped behind him but Severus chose to ignore it. Lily spun and gave him a dirty look.

Their footsteps, pounding against the stone floor, were the only sound that broke the silence. When they sank onto the steps that led to Slytherin's dungeons, Lily finally spoke.

"Sev, I'm pregnant."

The words hit him like the Hogwarts Express at full tilt. He let out a gasp that sounded more like a wheeze. Since he had never touched her—or any girl, come to think of it—it had to have been Potter.

She blinked at him, expecting him to say something.

"You're not serious," he finally managed to stammer. "You said you were a…I…I want to marry you."

The cold air rising from the dungeons suddenly seemed darker and chillier.

"But you can. I'm still a virgin."

"Virgins don't get pregnant," he said with a snort of derision. He was angry, angry that he had, not two weeks ago, defended Lily's honor against the idiot Potter who said he'd already had ten Gryffindor girls.

She sniffed. "You did know you're the father, didn't you? Pomfrey said so when she put the hiding charm over my belly."

"WHAT?" Snape nearly tumbled down the stairs. "Then why didn't I get to have any fun?"

Lily flushed. "Severus, stop it."

"I was waiting for you." He sounded pleading but he couldn't make himself tone it down. "I was going to marry you, Lily. I would kill anyone who touched you, so don't tell me I got you pregnant because--"

Her eyes softened. "You would?"

He wasn't sure what she was referring to so he chose one. "I want to marry you," he repeated. Then a rush of anger surged up and he snapped, "So can you stop _lying_ that I impregnated you, because I would certainly remember if I'd ever been with a girl, especially you."

She flushed again. Snape had to thump the back of his head against the wall to rid it of an inappropriate image of her.

"It didn't happen like normal, you see? It's a magical pregnancy. Do you remember when you were in the hospital when you were knocked out by a Bludger?"

He bit his lip without answering.

"When you were in the hospital wing, Pomfrey somehow got your…" She flushed again. "Sperm and--"

"I did NOT--"

"I'm just saying it happened. She was taking care of you, she touched me afterward and I got pregnant."

Snape felt his lip curl. "Sperm die when they're exposed to air, any third year would know that. And you need thousands of them to fertilize an egg. And ninety-year-old Madam Pomfrey does not have access to my…" He fell silent, realizing too late that he should probably be just as embarrassed by the subject as Lily.

He started counting swirls on the stairs. When his ears started to cool, he looked up. There were tears in Lily's eyes and Snape felt himself weakening.

"My parents aren't going to understand. They'll think I've been fooling around with some boy and then I won't get to come back to Hogwarts."

"Tell them--" Snape began fiercely but Lily interrupted.

"I can't. I've already decided to stay at Hogwarts until the birth which will be sometime next month. I'll just tell my parents classes got out late, they'll never know."

Snape felt his lip curling. "And they're not going to notice a baby how?"

"Please just take off one year, Sev and take care of our baby. I could drop out of school after he turns one and live at Spinner's End. My parents would think I was at school. They would never have to know. And then after we both finish our sixth and seventh years, we'll be a real family. At Spinner's End."

There was too much to think about. Severus focused on the most important part. "The baby is a boy?"

Lily nodded. She still looked teary-eyed. "He's going to look like you. Pomfrey saw black hair."

"What are you going to name him?" Snape snorted. "Hairy?"

Clearly she didn't get his joke. Her green eyes had gone irritatingly dreamy. "Harry. But not Harold. I don't like that. Harry Severus Evans."

"NO! Harry Evans, but NOT Severus. What if Potter has a son? I won't have Potter's brat taunting Harry because of his middle name and…" He felt his face turning red with frustration. "…And pantsing him for all of Hogwarts to see."

Lily laid a hand on his arm. Severus jerked away and leaned instead against the cold stone of the dungeon wall. "I saw Albus Dumbledore looking out the window. He was laughing, too."


	2. Insomnia and Coffee

The summer passed slowly and lazily but Snape was hard at work

The summer passed slowly and lazily but Snape was hard at work. After a long day building Harry's crib out of scrap lumber, Snape dragged the lawn mower out of the storage shed at Spinner's End but couldn't bring himself to do any more work under the hot sun. So the grass grew long around the mower and Snape hid himself inside, preparing for Harry Evans' arrival. In the evenings, completely exhausted, he would read the dusty, cracked books his father had collected during his days as a university professor.

He had added his own small collection to the shelves that lined the living room: his Hogwarts textbooks, plus his own supplemental reading: Practicing the Dark Arts, Living with the Dark Mark (published only three months ago and flying off the shelves in Knockturn Alley), and Teaching Potions.

On the evening of August the third, he was reading an example situation in the Discipline chapter of Teaching Potions. The book (complete with ridiculous diagrams and imaginary students with stupid names) set up a situation where a student, Muggle-Born Maude, melted a cauldron and described how the professor handled the disaster calmly but professionally.

He had just answered the prompt, _what would you do in this situation?_—"That's easy, make Mudblood Maude drink the ruined potion and record the entertaining results"—when the doorbell rang.

He leapt out of his chair, knocking it backwards. The textbook crumpled onto the floor. He knew who it was. He'd been awaiting this new visitor, sometimes awoke at midnight in a sweat. Bottles had been sterilized and lined up on the countertops. The mobile he charmed had jangled and screeched until he crushed it with a frying pan. He had even bought nappies.

He flung the door open and his best friend stood on the doorstep. She looked worn out. Tucked inside her curved arm was a tiny bundle of blankets.

Snape took it from her. He was scared to death but tried not to show it.

"You should cut the grass," she said. Her smile wobbled.

"Have you talked to your parents?" Snape said in a voice that came out a whisper.

She looked fierce for a moment and then she passed a hand over her forehead. "They're not to know, Severus. They don't understand magical pregnancies and if they think I've been with a boy, they'll never let me go back to Hogwarts."

Snape peeked down into the blankets. All he could see were two squeezed shut eyes and a pinched red face. He thought it might be the ugliest child he'd ever seen.

"Are you sure you didn't do Goyle?"

Lily glared at him. "I'm going home. I named him Harry Evans like we decided. I didn't give him a middle name."

Snape kissed her forehead, Lily whispered, "Thanks for understanding," and then she shut the door. And Snape was a sixteen-year-old father with a newborn. He poked Harry in the bassinet by his bed and went back to reading Teaching Potions.

Harry woke up mewing like a cat and Snape ignored him, hoping he would go back to sleep. He was reading about how to set up a Potions classroom and the example teacher, Professor Polyjuice, raved about how he moved the desks around depending on the type of potion being brewed. Semicircle arrangements were great for brewing complicated potions where he could rush to stop a catastrophe. Plus, the professor added, without rows of desks to walk through it was easier on the teacher's back and feet.

Snape snorted. "It would be easier on your back if you didn't rearrange the desks every bloody day."

By the time he had drawn his classroom arrangement in the empty box provided in the book—"Idiots in the front so they'll learn quicker"—Harry's cries had grown to adult-like screams.

Snape could feel the blood draining from his already pale face. He looked down at the cartoon drawing of Professor Polyjuice. "Shut up. You don't get them until they're halfway grown."

He ran to the kitchen, mixed up a bottle of formula, and skidded into the bedroom. Harry's face was redder than it had been at first, but at least he looked like a real human now.

He cursed, the same word over and over, like a lullaby for himself before scooping the baby into his arms. He remembered too late that babies couldn't hold their own heads up. For a sickening moment, he thought his son's overly large head was going to flop off his neck and onto the floor.

Harry threw his arms and legs out, his entire body shuddering. Snape felt horrible. Then he began to scream again.

Snape forced the bottle into Harry's mouth. The room fell silent.

Sweat dripped off Snape's face as he settled into the rocking chair in the corner. He had forgotten to turn on the light and heavy drapes blocked the sunbeams from coming through the grimy windows. It felt like a tomb in there. He hated being a father.

Creak, creak, creak. He rocked until Harry emptied the bottle and went to sleep. Feeling disoriented in the darkness, Snape felt as though he'd been rocking Harry for several lifetimes.

Creak, creak, creak.

He woke up to a whimper. He had fallen asleep in the rocking chair and Harry was still in his arms. What time was it?

He fumbled for the clock on the nightstand. One a.m.

He looked down at Harry who stared cross-eyed at him with bright almond shaped eyes. Lily's eyes. When Harry let out a single wail, Snape smelled the reason.

"I hate being a father!" he said, throwing the clock to the ground. Harry didn't say anything. Did magical newborns even talk? He felt guilty all the same. "I didn't mean anything by it. But did you know your mother was _magically_ impregnated? Of all the ways to get someone pregnant, I had to do it the lamest way possible. Do you realize I haven't even slept with your mother?"

He remembered to hold Harry's head up this time as he carried him to the changing table. He whipped off the nappy and pointed his wand at Harry's bum, realizing as he did so that he knew no spells that related to bodily functions. A few curses, perhaps, but no spells.

In that moment, the image of a redhead sprang to his mind. Not Lily, the one who had caused this mess in the first place, but Mrs. Molly Weasley, a frazzled mum he had met while buying Harry's nappies. She had been chasing two children down the aisles and was very pregnant with a third. She had pointed out the most absorbent nappies to Snape before declaring that if she had a fourth child, Snape had permission to call her insane. She had forgotten to take her middle child home. The shopkeeper had run after her before returning with the anklebiter. "She lives at the Burrow. I'll drop him through the Floo Network."

He had wondered then, _Is this what it is like to be a parent?_ He'd gone home that evening and downed an entire bottle of Firewhiskey. And now he couldn't stop staring at the green Floo Powder sitting over his fireplace.

Harry started to cry. Snape was scared. This thing seemed to cry all the time; right now, it seemed to be because he was naked. Well, Snape could relate. He'd cried, in private, after Potter had pantsed him in front of the whole school. But while he had stopped crying when Crabbe walked into the common room, Harry seemed content to cry no matter who was around.

He gritted his teeth and finished changing Harry. Just in case, he made another bottle and Harry sucked on it hungrily.

After setting Harry asleep in his bassinet, Snape dropped off to sleep. He was dreaming of Professor Binn's boring History class when he heard the sound again: like a fire engine with black hair.

His nappy was wet. It was three a.m.

Three hours later, he was hungry again. This time Snape had been dreaming about screaming babies.

He stumbled into the kitchen and mixed another bottle. While Harry slept, he ate breakfast, showered and shaved. He tried not to look at himself in the mirror but he was all too aware of the bags under his eyes.

"I'm sixteen," he reminded himself, and went back into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He drank it all and was so jittery, he went out in the yard and mowed the lawn.

By the time evening rolled around, Snape was bored out of his mind with the monotonous routine of feeding, rocking, and changing a stranger that was supposed to be his son. He wondered when paternal love was supposed to kick in. Maybe it didn't apply to teenage fathers.

He turned his alarm clock off—he wouldn't need it—and rolled himself and Harry into bed.

Around the same hour as the night before, Harry started crying. Snape woke up, feeling as though pins were stabbing his eyelids. His legs didn't seem to belong to him. They dragged somewhere of their own accord as he tried to head toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

He drank the entire pot and his eyelids started working again.

Harry was still crying when he got back from the kitchen. Snape tried burping him and then he changed his nappy. Afterward he paced back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He wasn't enjoying it. Sure, the coffee had zinged him and the walking gave him a way to work off the energy, but the coffee also put an enormous amount of pressure on his bladder.

He put Harry in the bassinet and ran to the master bathroom. It was the perfect solution. Yet when he heard Harry scream, his muscles tensed and he found he couldn't relax enough to go. Maybe _that_ was paternal love kicking in.

When he picked up his son, Harry snuggled still crying against his chest. Snape wondered if bladders could explode.

"Are you hungry, Harry?" he asked.

He put a bottle in Harry's mouth and Harry started sucking happily. Hallelujah! Snape scrambled to the bathroom. Balancing the bottle against his chest, he managed to keep Harry quiet long enough to relieve himself.

He had just finished when something splashed into the toilet. Harry started screaming and Snape checked for a wild moment to make sure he was still holding onto him. It wasn't Harry he had dropped, it was the baby bottle, and he was not fishing around in the toilet to get it out.

Harry was screaming in his ear and he was so tired. He was tired of this fathering business. He couldn't even use the toilet without a little person watching him. Now he'd just wasted an entire bottle of formula and he'd have to make another bottle in the dead of night. He didn't like this one bit.

He set Harry, still screaming, into the bassinet and stomped over to the fireplace. Throwing Floo Powder into the fireplace, he shouted, "The Burrow!"

Harry screamed louder. Snape could feel himself losing his reserve. He swallowed around a lump that had appeared in his throat.

The kitchen that swam in front of his eyes was dark and empty. "Mrs. Weasley?" he called in desperation.

He heard a crashing sound and then a light flickered on. Mrs. Weasley appeared, hair askew, carrying her lit wand.

"Who are you?"

"Severus Snape. I'm a student at Hogwarts and now I'm a f-f-father." He stammered the last word but he would not cry. He wouldn't.

"I remember. You were at Babies 'R Magic. Is something wrong?"

Harry screamed louder and Snape felt his ears pop. He jumped to his feet scattering ash, and shouted, "Shut up!"

Then he felt someone pushing him then pulling him forward. He let out a choking sob and then fell against something soft and plump. Molly Weasley had stepped through the fireplace into Snape's home and was murmuring something that sounded admonishing and sympathetic at the same time.

"You mustn't yet at your son like that, Severus," she said, rubbing his back. "Shh, shh, it's hard, isn't it? There are days I want to wring Bill's neck when he's discovered a new naughty word or when Charlie's drawn on himself with color quills. And you never quite get used to those cries, it always tugs on your heart."

Snape rubbed his nose against the puffy sleeves of Molly's robe. "I just want to go to Hogwarts."

He felt Molly's shoulders shake and knew she was laughing at him.

"I'm a terrible father. I accidentally dropped Harry's bottle in the toilet just now."

"Oh my," she said, patting his back. "You're having a rough time of it. Where is Mum?"

Snape simply shook his head.

She let go of him and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. "Dry your eyes. I'll go fetch Harry a new bottle."

He couldn't let her do that for him, not when she had a new baby of her own. He tried to protest but either Harry's cries drowned him out or she chose to ignore him.

He collapsed onto his bed and pulled his pillow close. He would rest until she came back up the stairs. Until then, he would just shut his eyes and think….

Early in the morning, he was jolted awake by Harry's cries. There was a piece of parchment propped up by his lamp. He opened bleary eyes and read it: "Dear Severus, I'm sorry you haven't parents to help you through these difficult first months. Mine were a great help during Bill's first year, so I offer my husband's and my assistance. Please let Arthur or me know if you need us, you would never be a bother. All the best, Molly."

Around lunch time, Lily came by to see Harry. Snape had forgotten it was still summer. While Lily cooed over Harry, Snape ditched shaving and showering for a four-hour nap.

The months passed. The summer's bright sunlight faded into the paler version that peeked through colorful trees. When Harry was four months old, Snape started smiling when he saw him waving his chubby legs. Sometime during the long hours pacing back and forth in an effort to calm Harry, Snape had fallen in love with his son. He wasn't sure how it happened but it seemed an eternity had passed since he had shouted at Harry to shut up.

After they had struggled through the rough first few months, both of them slept more soundly at night. Snape wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not but when he picked up Harry, Harry seemed to recognize him and love him in return.

When he asked Molly, she laughed. She had been holding her three-month-old, Percy, at the time and he'd been looking up at her with a soppy grin. "Of course he knows who you are. In spring, he'll be saying "dada" and your heart will melt all over again."

Now that Harry could hold his head up and that horrible floppiness had disappeared, Snape could hold Harry on his knee and bounce him up and down. Harry would laugh and Snape couldn't help joining in.

They were in the middle of this game in late December—Harry was nearly five months old—when there was a knock at the front door.

Snape jumped off the threadbare couch. "Sorry, love, but when you're my only company, I go a bit insane. Go play by yourself." He laid Harry on the floor and watched him reach for his favorite rattle.

The doorbell rang.

"I'm coming!" he shouted. "Git."

He wrenched the door open. The hinges creaked; it had been a while since someone came to visit. Arthur and Molly always came through the fireplace.

Lily stood on the doorstep, holding a trunk.

Snape burst through the doorway. "Let me get that for you, Lil." He pecked her on the cheek and she turned away.

"Snape, I don't know what to say."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Snape smirked. This was probably the first time he had spoken the truth when he said those words. "I've missed you."

"Don't. People have been murdered in the streets. Muggles, too. They say a Dark Lord is taking over the wizarding world."

Snape thought back to the days at Hogwarts when he, Mulciber, Crabbe, and Goyle talked about joining with Lord Voldemort. They'd practiced the dark curses they knew. Snape had even written his own, including Sectumsempra which he'd used against Potter, and Levicorpus, which Potter had used against him.

"I've been busy changing nappies and giving baths, Lil. Do you really think I had time to murder people?"

"I don't know."

Snape scratched his greasy head. "Of course you don't know, what was I thinking? You haven't been here to see anything."

She whipped around and said hotly, "I've been at Hogwarts! I have to finish my education. I didn't think you wanted to finish Hogwarts anyway. Weren't you set to help the Dark Lord carry out his plans?"

Snape didn't say anything, only stared at the wall. In the dark nights when Harry wouldn't stop crying, he had thought of this moment, the day he and Lily would be reunited. In his waking dreams, he had seen Lily's flaming red hair streaming out behind her in the wind, her robes billowing, and her face glowing with the happiness of seeing the person she'd grown to love as more than a friend. Right now, Lily's face glowed, but the way her eyes roamed the room, Snape knew it wasn't he she was seeking out. He felt betrayed.

"Harry!" she squealed. The baby looked up and beamed.

It just wasn't fair.


	3. Friends and Foes

When the snow started to fall thicker, Lily went back to Hogwarts

When the snow started to fall thicker, Lily went back to Hogwarts. To keep up the pretense against her parents, she had only visited Snape the one time to see how big Harry was getting. She promised she would send money to buy him more nappies and outfits, and at the end of January, a package arrived in the mail full of Galleons.

"Guess what, Harry?" Snape said dryly. "Mum sent just enough for Dad's birthday to go to Hogsmeade and get sloshed with his old friends."

He knew he was a terrible example when Harry scooted toward him and said something that sounded suspiciously like, "Sloshed."

Things got even better when, just after he pocketed the money, Arthur Weasley stepped through the fireplace with his children following behind. He coughed a bit, dusted ash out of Charlie's hair, and smiled.

"Morning, Severus. You're seventeen today, aren't you?"

"Tomorrow."

Arthur flapped his hands and made a shushing sound. "This is the weekend. You don't want to celebrate your birthday when all your friends are in school, do you? I already told Molly I was coming to get Harry."

Snape felt faint. He gripped a chair to steady himself. "You mean--?"

"Take the whole day off."

He looked at Harry, having a sneaking suspicion that his six-month-old had somehow set this up. Harry gurgled and a stream of saliva drooled out of his mouth. Snape could have sworn he said, "Say hi to Mulciber for me."

Arthur set up a Portkey for Snape, who couldn't Apparate yet. Arthur promised to teach him over the next few days.

The old gang sat at a corner table in their favorite Hogsmeade pub: Mulciber, Crabbe, Goyle, and Avery. Avery was tracing his name in the thick dust on the tabletop but turned beady eyes toward Snape when he shuffled through the door.

"Where you been, Sev?"

"With your cunning powers of observation, it's a wonder you even noticed I was missing." Snape smirked and slid into a chair between Mulciber and Crabbe.

Avery glared as though he was sure he had been insulted but not sure what to say in return.

Mulciber clapped him on the shoulder. "Good to have you back. The Mudblood said you were sick."

Snape stared at Mulciber for a long moment. Blood pounded in his ears and he wanted nothing more than to throw the table over and watch Mulciber be crushed beneath it.

Mulciber looked to the others for support. Goyle guffawed in embarrassment and then his face turned red.

"But everyone said that's what you called her when she and Potter strung you up by your ankles."

Snape shifted in his chair. He wasn't going to talk about _that_. "She got pregnant with my son. I left Hogwarts to raise him."

Avery looked sick.

"That's how the rumors go, but Dumbledore said absolutely not," Crabbe piped up.

For a long time, no one spoke. Sunlight tried to shine through the filth on the windows but only a thin beam came through. Then Snape said, "What's that on your arm?" For he had noticed a black tattoo on Avery's bicep.

Avery flexed his muscle. "I got it two weeks ago," he said proudly. "Show him yours, boys."

The others pulled back the sleeves of their robes to reveal identical tattoos. Snape was envious. He'd missed far too much while he was holed away with Harry at Spinner's End.

"I imagine that was your idea, Goyle."

Goyle grinned stupidly. Then Mulciber must have stomped on his toes because he yelped and stared out the window while Mulciber explained.

"We got 'em from the Dark Lord. You know, V-V--"

"I know who he is," Snape said shortly. "Evans said you were stupid to--"

"Enough about Evans!" Avery roared, spit flying from his mouth. "Evans and Potter have somehow defied the Dark Lord twice. If everything had gone to plan, they would be dead."

Snape stopped breathing. Lily dead? He rose from the table, feeling as though he had lost control of this conversation. "Evans is going to be my wife," he said. "So you can tell the Dark Lord to move his attentions to Potter and Longbottom and those stupid Gryffindors who refuse to accept the Dark Lord's power. But not Lily."

Crabbe drew in a breath. "What about you then? Do you refuse to accept the Dark Lord's power?"

"This has nothing to do--" Snape began but Crabbe cut him off.

"The Dark Lord knows about your talents. He's seeking someone…brave to brew potions that would help our cause."

Snape returned to his chair, breathing heavily. He thought of Harry, his thin face and button nose, and the way he waved goodbye when Snape left the room. Harry needed a protector, he needed someone who could ensure his safety. Someone like Voldemort. The stupid Minister of Magic certainly didn't have a handle on the job.

Besides, Snape had been stuck in his house for six months with the Weasleys as his only companions. He'd found himself so bored one day that he poked his head through the fireplace to have a conversation about dragon hide with seven-year-old Charlie. Granted, the boy had an uncommon interest in dragons and helped Snape invent a new potion but that was beside the point. Snape needed an outlet.

"When can I meet him?"

Mulciber exchanged a look with Avery. Even Crabbe and Goyle, stupid as they were, knew something was amiss. Goyle stopped twiddling with the moth-eaten curtains.

"You—you can't just meet him. You have to prove yourself to him. Give him information or something." Mulciber grinned. "We earned our stripes."

Snape's stomach turned over; he knew exactly what they had done to earn a position in the Dark Lord's inner circle. Yet at the same time, a strange feeling of envy came over him. His growth had been stunted when Lily gave him a child, while his friends had grown up. They had done things only adults had the right to do…and Snape still felt like a child. They were set to graduate from Howarts next year. Did he really expect them to wait another two years for him to graduate also?

It wasn't until the beginning of June that Voldemort agreed to see Snape. By then, Snape was hearing reports of mysterious deaths in Muggle villages and knew the Death Eaters were the cause. Snape pretended not to hear the reason: that the Death Eaters were trying to punish Muggle-born wizards and witches like Lily. He had doubts about the Death Eaters but he couldn't deny they had strength. If he had been a Death Eater last year, Potter might never have had the nerve to pants him.

After Snape met with Voldemort, he Apparated back to Spinner's End breathing heavily. He had pleaded with Voldemort to let him become a Death Eater, offering his talents in Potions.

Voldemort had the nerve to pat him on the head. "Come back when you have something better. You haven't even taken your N.E.W.T.s yet."

Fuming, Snape unlocked his front door. Arthur stood at the foot of the stairs. Snape looked around the room, appalled. A radio warbled children's songs, blankets were strewn as tents across all the furniture, and ash floated through the air. His Floo Powder container was in pieces on the floor and the powder ground into the carpet. Four ropes were tied to the ceiling fan which was whipping around at top speed.

"What is that?" Snape started to ask but suddenly Bill Weasley leapt off the stairs toward the rope.

"Whee!"

Arthur laughed and pointed to Bill zooming around in circles on the ceiling fan. "I used a partial Levitation charm. The first time was a disaster. I was—I mean to say, _he_ was too heavy, and the fan fell off the ceiling."

Bill was speaking every time he whirled around and his words came out in short bursts. "Dad—broke—it—but—I—helped—him—fix—it."

Snape forced his breath out through his teeth and Arthur had the decency to look abashed.

"The kids were playing," he tried to explain. "We didn't have much to do after Harry and Percy went to bed. My kids don't go to sleep as early as yours."

Snape concentrated on breathing.

"So would you like a try?"

Snape felt anger billowing in his chest. Hurriedly, he pulled some money out of a pocket of his robes. "This is for watching Harry. Now get out of my house."

Arthur's smile faded. "There's no need to use that tone with me. I'm a friend."

"Oh really?" Snape curled his lip. "Then start cleaning up my house."

Arthur nodded but his willingness didn't matter anymore. Snape's anger was growing. It felt like a ship tossing around inside him and he couldn't hold it back anymore than he could stop the surging ocean waves.

Then Harry began to cry.

Snape let out a string of curse words directed toward Arthur. "Did you even put him to bed?"

Without waiting for an answer, he stormed to Harry's room. Harry sat up in his crib, screaming. The curtains were drawn back and moonlight shone bright through the window.

Snape squeezed his wand which was tucked in his pocket. "No one can sleep with moonlight blazing in his face."

"I'm sorry he's awake. It's hard to have a child who wakes up during the night."

"It's _hard_? It's bloody impossible to have a child."

"I think you're tired, Severus. Things will look better in the morning."

Snape threw a rattle into the crib so Harry would stop crying. "I didn't even want him."

"Don't say that. You're overreacting."

"You want me to overreact?" Snape wasn't sure how, but his voice had dropped to a sinister quiet. He sounded older and more dangerous.

Arthur's face froze with fear. "Severus, please…"

His wand was out and and green light—the killing curse—flashed from it. Severus wasn't even sure why he was angry but it felt good. Harry fell against his crib mattress and sobbed into his fists.

"Don't hurt him!" Arthur yelled. His face, deathly pale, glowed in the moonlight.

Snape threw his wand against the wall. "My father broke twelve bones in my body. You think I would try to hurt him? I was trying to kill you!"

Arthur's face twisted. "I'll be checking up on Harry, don't think I won't."

"You said you were my friend."

Arthur scrambled down the stairs and soon after, a whooshing sound came from downstairs. Charlie was protesting but Snape couldn't make out the words. Then a crack—and the Weasleys were gone.

Snape yelled sounds that didn't quite turn into actual words. Then he fell onto the floor, sobbing into his fists.

He didn't remember when he stopped crying, but he somehow fell asleep. When he woke up, it was morning. He looked around to see Harry curled in the corner of his crib, snuffling.

"I think it's time for Dad to send you off to stay with Mum for a while."

Harry's eyes opened at the sound of Snape's voice. He blinked at Snape before breaking into a grin.

"If you're smiling at me, then you must have an atrocious memory," Snape said sourly, reaching into the crib. "I don't think Arthur will be coming around to visit any time soon. Unless of course it's to check that I'm not hurting you."

Harry reached up and grabbed Snape's nose. Snape swatted his hand away.

"Leave me alone, love." He stared out the window. He was afraid to look into his son's forgiving eyes knowing those same eyes had watched Snape direct the Avada Kedavra at Arthur. "I didn't mean it enough to kill him. That's why it didn't work."

He chanced a glance at Harry and immediately his eyes welled with tears. This was too much responsibility. He was only seventeen and a virgin at that. What made him able to take care of a child and balance the rest of his life at the same time?

He had to give Harry up at least for the weekend so he could calm down. He wouldn't turn into his father. He refused to hit and yell at his own child no matter how angry he got.

They Apparated just outside of the Hogwarts grounds. After tucking Harry into a baby backpack, he strolled through the open gates.

Four students lounged under a tree. Snape's heart caught in his throat. For a moment, he thought they were Potter's gang. Then one of them rolled over and he recognized the Ravenclaw scarves.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw," he muttered, getting a giggle from Harry. He lowered his voice and straightened his back. "Detention Saturday night, my office. I do not take cheek from anyone. Not even you, Potter."

Harry giggled again and banged his little fists against Snape's back.

"Severus!"

Snape turned to see Albus Dumbledore striding across the lawn. His beard had grown at least a foot since Snape last saw him. Right now, the white hair was tucked into his belt.

"Lily explained what happened." Dumbledore's forehead creased and he looked very stern. "When will you be returning to school?"  
"This coming September. I brought Harry today to see his mum."

Dumbledore opened his mouth then closed it again. Snape stared hard at him and Dumbledore tried again. "Lily isn't the first student to be with child during her school years. But there has to be a certain bit of decorum involved. We can't allow students to carry babies around Hogwarts. We'll have others believing we condone this sort of behavior."

"I've seen you condone quite a few behaviors, usually involving James Potter and Sirius Black."

Dumbledore's face turned pink. "Severus, that simply isn't true…"

"In 1931, the Headmaster denied access to a werewolf student, but you allow one to roam on the grounds."

"I understand your anger, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "You were nearly attacked by Mr. Lupin and I regret that."

"You regret it? What other behaviors have you condoned and even encouraged?" Harry started to squirm on Snape's back.

Dumbledore squinted up at the sky. "It's too warm out here. Come into my office and we'll share some biscuits and tea as friends."

"Friends?"

"You've put me in an unsual predicament, Severus. You return no longer a student. What can I do?"

"You can admit to what you let me suffer here at Hogwarts. That's all I want."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "Is that really all you would have me say?"

"Yes," Snape said harshly.

"I beg to differ, if only because I'm a belligerent old man. I rather think you expect me to feel an amount of pain for letting you be bullied under my nose."

Tears sprang to Snape's eyes and he blinked angrily, cursing the sun. Dumbledore was staring penetratingly at him. "I apologize for what you went through. Yet often times of pain are opportunities for growth."

Snape scowled at the ground. "That's not what you agreed to say."

"I wasn't aware I agreed to anything. I think we both agree on one thing: that causing me pain to alleviate yours would only make matters worse."

"No," Snape said, clenching his fists. "I want you to tell me what you did wrong."

"In that case, I will have to decline." Dumbledore started toward the Ravenclaws under the tree.

Snape pointed his wand at Dumbledore's back. _Levicorpus,_ he thought.

There was a crash of sound and lights and suddenly Snape felt his feet flip out from under him. Through the folds of his robe draped over his head, Snape heard a smattering of laughter.

"Shield charm," one of the Ravenclaws said.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Severus," Dumbledore said. "It was only a matter of reflex. I was a Seeker in my days at Hogwarts, you know."

As Snape struggled to right himself, a weight lifted off his back and a thump sounded on the ground. Snape's stomach nearly dropped out through his mouth.

"Harry!"

In a blink, Snape's feet returned to the ground. He scooped up Harry who had somehow landed on his bum. Dumbledore held out a hand and Snape spat toward him.

"Is this my punishment for getting a student pregnant, Albus?" he yelled, laying stress on Dumbledore's first name. "Because I never touched Lily Evans."

Then they swept away, nearly running to the gates where Snape twirled on his heel and Apparated home.

The Weasleys came by on Tuesday after Arthur got off work. Molly carried a cake as a peace offering and whispered her apologies. Arthur was smiling broadly after discovering a Muggle invention he called the "fellytone."

"Imagine, you can hear someone's voice across town and you don't even have to get ash on your clothes."

"We had a felly—a telephone when I was growing up," Snape said, unimpressed.

Arthur scooped Harry off the floor. "Harry, I got to try out a fellytone!"

Harry laughed.

"He got dropped on his head on Saturday," Snape said. "So excuse his thinking things are funny when they're not."

Arthur winked at Snape. "We've missed you, Severus."

Molly brushed imaginary wrinkles out of Snape's clothes. "Let me fix you some tea."

"No, I'll get it."

While they waited for the kettle to boil (Snape was afraid to take out his wand after pulling his wand on Arthur), they sat at the kitchen table and ate toast.

"When does Lily get out of school?" Molly asked.

"We went to visit her yesterday but I lost my temper with Dumbledore and we left."

Molly's eyes grazed Snape's face. "Well, let's not get into that," she said briskly. Then a soft smile played around her lips. "I bet Lily was disappointed your meeting was postponed."

The way she said "meeting" made Snape flush.

"Oh, come now, Severus, don't be so embarrassed. Surely that was your intent."

Snape busied himself with the tea kettle which was now whistling. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Molly and Arthur exchanged smirks.

"I wouldn't be so nosy if it weren't for the baby," Molly continued. "But since you have a baby, you know what goes into making one…"

Snape returned to the table and poured hot water into the Weasley's cups. "Lily is a virgin and I don't want to--"

He was interrupted by loud laughter.

"Dear, if she's calling herself a virgin--"

"It was a magical pregnancy."

Arthur wiggled his eyebrows a bit. "I bet it was."

Snape rolled his eyes and returned the kettle to the stove. "I was in the hospital wing while Pomfrey mended my head. Come nine months later, Lily told me Pomfrey had touched Lily after taking care of me and that got Lily pregnant."

"But--" stammered Arthur. "But you can't have airborne pregnancies. That's absurd. It doesn't work that way."

"Lily said it was magical. That's how it happened."

The looks Molly and Arthur exchanged this time were much more sober. Then Arthur spoke. "It seems Lily was fooling around with someone else and needed a person to blame."

"She was a virgin. She even cried when Potter called her a tart and I made up a new curse right then: Sectumsempra."

Molly cleared her throat. "I admire your zeal. Imagine creating a new curse at sixteen. But who is this Potter?"

"James Potter, the stupid git. He's always chatting up Lily and she's made it clear she's not…" He trailed off when he saw the Weasleys giving each other meaningful looks. "Not Potter. She's a virgin and she _didn't_ shag Potter. Don't you think Harry looks just like me?"

When the days got long, Severus thought of Lily. She visited some during the summer. Lily and he went on long walks with Harry tucked in his stroller. On Harry's first birthday, Harry wouldn't touch his cake so Lily smashed it in his face. He came up blinking, unsure what to think. Snape laughed and snapped pictures while Harry and Lily posed. He had the picture sitting by his bed and he smiled every time he saw it.

Snape asked her to marry him one day when the leaves were turning red and orange and brown. Lily was about to go back to school after both she and Snape decided it would be best for her to finish her education since Harry was accustomed to staying at Spinner's End with Snape. Her answer was, "Sev, you're my best friend."

It wasn't until later that Snape realized she had never answered. Maybe it was because he hadn't given her a ring. He vowed to buy one before she came back to visit.

She didn't come back until the end of the school year, a month before Harry turned two. Raindrops clung to her eyelashes and when she pulled her hat off, strands of hair stuck straight up.

"You look beautiful," Snape said and he meant it.

She scoffed and tossed her coat over a chair. "I brought chess. Do you want to play?"

Harry was in bed so Snape agreed. They had only moved their pieces three times when Snape contested Lily's move.

"That's just because you want to win, you horrible person!"

Snape laughed. "That's the best insult you can come up with?"

Lily launched herself at Snape and started tickling him. Snape gasped for breath, unable to breathe between belly laughs. He fell off the couch onto the floor and Lily rolled with him.

He was on top and he could smell her sweet breath and her perfumed hair. His heart pounded in his throat. Leaning forward, he said, "You're going to marry me anyway."

Lily's eyes grew serious. "No, Severus! It isn't right."

Snape slid his hand under her neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." He leaned forward. He would only kiss her, he wouldn't even let his hands stray. But she struggled away, revulsion in her eyes.

Snape dropped to the floor beside her, pretending he had wanted nothing more than to be staring up at the ceiling with her. A hot flush spread over his face when she looked over at him.

She averted her gaze and gathered her chess board and pieces. "I have to go. My parents will worry. I'll come get Harry at the end of August and you can go to school."

That night, Snape took Harry out of his crib and put him in bed with him. It made him not quite as lonely to feel soft skin against his and know someone loved him.

When the shadows of the early morning stretched over the ceiling, Snape was still lying awake. Harry slumbered beside him, sucking the tips of his fingers. In the rosy glow of the morning, he could imagine Lily sleeping beside him, her red hair fanned out around her head. She would sit up, smile at him and offer to start a pot of coffee.

He rolled onto his stomach to try to go to sleep.


	4. The Prophecy

Snape stepped off the Hogwarts train. He was almost nineteen and when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he thought he looked ridiculous in his Slytherin scarf and his too-short tie. He just wanted to be home with his son.

The year passed strangely. At times, it dragged, especially when Snape was bent low over his homework in the library and his mind wandered to Lily and Harry at Spinner's End. Other times, the year leaped ahead and Snape was astonished to find out how little he had left before graduation.

To earn extra money, he stayed at Hogwarts during Christmas break helping Horace Slughorn create potions. Horace was stupid, Snape thought, and he much preferred the company of Harry. But he had no money and magic didn't solve the problem of providing food and clothing for his baby. He wished fervently that Harry would forgive him for missing his childhood and sent Galleons to Lily every week. If he couldn't see them, he could at least provide for them.

As soon as the final potion was bottled, a burning feeling settled into Snape's stomach. He **had **to see Harry. It was a desire so strong he thought he would die if he couldn't fulfill it.

When Easter break rolled around, Snape Apparated home. He had just pushed the key in the lock at Spinner's End when the door opened and Lily rushed out. "You didn't mention you'd be gone so long," she snapped. She hefted a suitcase and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. "Harry's inside playing. I promise I'll be back before you have to return to school."

Harry peeked shyly from behind the door.

Snape closed his eyes, letting pure joy rush over him. "I'm your daddy, Harry."

The same toothy grin—although now he had many, many more teeth. He didn't say a word but Snape knew he recognized him.

Snape scooped him up and inhaled the smell of Harry. He was so beautiful. "I don't want to leave you ever again," he said.

"You at school." Harry's serious green eyes were so close to Snape's and Snape had to laugh.

As Snape walked toward the kitchen with Harry in his arms, Harry looked up at Snape and grinned. "I'm wet."

Snape rolled his eyes. He'd forgotten this less than pleasurable task. "I think today's the day you're going to be toilet-trained."

"I don't wanna."

Snape blew out a frustrated breath. "Then you'll be the only eleven-year-old at Hogwarts wearing nappies.

"I don't wanna go to Hogwarts."

"Okay, I don't either. But you're no longer wearing nappies." Snape pulled down Harry's jeans and undid the sticky tabs on his nappy. "Congratulations, love. You are now a toilet-trained toddler."

Harry stared at the nappy in Snape's hand and let out a wail as though he had lost a valuable item. "I don't wanna!"

Snape lifted his son and carried him to the toilet. He knelt in front and held Harry's feet so he wouldn't fall in. "Now go."

Harry scooted off the toilet and slapped Snape across the face. "NO!"

Snape sucked in his breath. He wouldn't tolerate this disrespect from his baby—his toddler—who barely stood past Snape's knees.

"If you ever hit me again--"

He had yet to get to the punishment when he felt a stinging blow on his cheek again. The nerve of this child! He had to have gotten his temper from his mother!

Snape spun him around and smacked his bum.

"Don't hit me," yelled Harry, his green eyes ablaze.

They glared at each other. Snape rose to his full height and Harry thrust his lip out, refusing to be intimidated by size.

Then something wet trickled on Snape's foot.

Harry was grinning. "I go potty."

He stormed out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind himself. "You're not the baby you used to be. I enjoyed being around him." He raked his hands through his hair. Molly had warned him of temper tantrums and the word "no." When she told him, Snape had been holding Harry in his lap. He'd laughed at her.

There was a crash in the bathroom. Snape wrenched the door open. Harry's eyes were wide. The flimsy potions cabinet had fallen off the wall (or an obnoxious toddler had pulled it off).

Potions bottles lay scattered over the floor, thankfully unbroken due to a child-proofing spell he had put over the medicines.

Snape let out a shaky breath. "I think you're trying to make my life miserable," he shouted. He grabbed a bottle of Deaging Potion and shook his fist at Harry. "You try me one more time and I swear I'll spoon feed this to you."

"I sorry, Daddy, I be good."

"No, you be bad." He thinned his lips. "Now you pick up this mess. Put everything back in the cabinet and then we'll see about going to the park."

"Okay."

Harry giggled and Snape marveled at how well Harry knew him. He'd learned to intimidate people at Hogwarts (all except for the Marauders who intimidated him). When he tried to be light-hearted and joke with them, they didn't recognize it and ran to Dumbledore, sobbing.

_Stupid gits._

But Harry wasn't like that. Harry trusted him and loved him, and even had the nerve to slap him. Granted, that was disturbing behavior for his child, but Snape found pride in the fact that he and his son understood one another. It was the same reason he still cared for Lily even when he recognized the revulsion in her face for what it was: she didn't love him.

They walked to the park where Snape had met Lily when they were ten-year-olds. Four birds huddled under the swings; Harry ran after them, squealing, and their wings rustled as they rose toward the sky.

Snape followed their flight with a sense of longing. He wanted to fly away with them.

Harry took his hand. "Can we do that?" He pointed to the swings.

Snape sat on the swing and straddled Harry over his lap facing him. "Hold tight onto the chains." Pushing off strong with his feet, he let the wind whip across his face and ruffle his hair. Harry pressed against his chest, his breath warming Snape through his thin robes.

"Go higher, Daddy," Harry whispered as though if he spoke louder the dream of flying would fracture.

Snape's hair flew across his face and Harry carefully pushed it out of his eyes for him.

"Hold onto the chains," Snape ordered and Harry's face fell.

"Okay."

The birds returned to the ground, pecking for food and hopping around the merry-go-round. Harry's eyes followed them.

Slowly, the sun sunk behind the mill in the distance. In the darkness, Snape could barely see Harry's smile anymore. His legs were exhausted from keeping them flying through the air. He slowed and Harry lifted his head.

"I have to go to the toilet," Snape said even though he didn't.

"Me too," Harry said. When they slowed to a stop, he slipped off Snape's lap and ran to the bushes. Snape helped him unbutton his pants.

"Lily is going to kill me when she finds out how I trained you," he said. "Promise me you'll use the toilet when she's around."

Harry stared solemnly at Snape and Snape recognized the stubbornness that had come out a few hours before.

He cursed.

He should have recognized "it" sooner but he was too busy writing essays about Deaging Potions, the Wizard War of 1660, and the differences between a Cheering Charm and a Happiness Charm (not much). He noticed "it" during the summer Harry turned three. The first time, Lily was looking at school pictures at Spinner's End and giggled too much when she looked at one of James dancing with Professor McGonagall. It happened again when she told Snape she had to go check in with her parents but returned the following day smelling of cologne. He even caught a whiff of the unmistakable metallic smell of a Golden Snitch. The final event clinched it: when he borrowed one of her textbooks to write a summer essay, he found a love letter tucked inside from James Potter.

He didn't go back to Hogwarts that fall. Lily seemed distracted and was often unable to take care of Harry.

"Dad," Harry said one evening in early October when Snape was helping him change his into his pajamas before bed. "Where does Mum go?"

"To snog James Potter senseless," Snape snapped. "Now put your pants on."

Harry plopped onto the floor to pull on his clothes.

Snape ran a finger around his lips. "Do you think it's strange for a mum not to live with her child's father?"

Harry studied Snape's face before saying seriously, "Nooooo."

"I knew I should stop letting you watch daytime television," Snape said dryly.

"What's daytime television?"

"What most kids do instead of making potions in the basement."

"Ooooh." Harry fumbled with a snap on his pants before Snape leaned in to help him. "I like making potions with you."

Snape ruffled Harry's thick, black hair remembering with a smile why he had got his name. Snape loved his son's hair but he hated to admit that his hair color was the only part of Snape that he had inherited. He had Lily's eyes but his cheeks were much rounder than either of theirs and his jawline was very pronounced. Lily had suggested once that perhaps he got that from her grandfather.

"When is Mum coming home?"

Snape lifted Harry into his arms, enjoying the weight of him in his arms. When he had been at Hogwarts, he missed the evenings the most. "Listen to me, love. Mum and Dad aren't married as Arthur and Molly are, so we don't live together. It's much too complicated to explain to you, but I don't believe your mum loves me."

"_I_ love you," Harry said proudly.

"I know," Snape said, smiling. "But adults need a different type of love sometimes."

"What?"

"What type of love?" Snape felt himself flushing. "I guess it would be romantic love. The kind I call frivolous and stupid."

"Oh." Harry buried his head in Snape's neck, breathing gently. "Do we have to go to bed?"

"I do. It's hard work keeping up with you." They crawled in bed. Harry snuggled into the curve of Snape's body, resting his head against Snape's chin.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" Snape asked, closing his eyes. "Do you want me to introduce you to the beauty of Hogsmeade on a snowy day?"

Harry's eyes were closed but the glowing smile on his face gave Snape his answer.

The next day, they bundled up in scarves, mittens, hats, and coats and set off to Hogsmeade.

When they got inside the Hog's Head, Harry threw off his scarf with a huff. "I hate green."

"No, you don't. You're going to be Slytherin like me."

"I want to be a lion like Mum."

Snape didn't know why the statement hurt so much but it did. "Fine," he snapped. "But Gryffindors are weak and stupid. Do you remember Frank Longbottom?" He caught himself. "No, of course you don't, you're three. But Frank Longbottom was the stupidest boy of our year who married the Gryffindor girl who could stuff four pasties in her mouth on a dare. Now she's expecting a baby and with their combined efforts, the child just might lower the Longbottom standards to something never seen before."

Harry giggled and squeezed Snape's hand. "Why is it so dark in here?"

"Good afternoon," said the bartender, who was sweeping crumbs into a corner.

Snape jumped when he saw him. Twinkling blue eyes, slightly off-center glasses, and a long beard… It couldn't be…

The man chuckled. "No, I ain't him. You're thinking of my brother, Albus. He's here right now, as a matter of fact, interviewing a teacher for the new school year. She's a bit barmy but I guess that's Albus's style."

Snape grunted. "Harry, would you like to meet your future Headmaster?"

Harry nodded so they walked up the creaky stairs dotted with grease and grime. Snape heard Dumbledore's voice through a closed door. He knelt beside it, wondering what sort of false hopes he gave to his teachers. Snape had always thought he would enjoy teaching but he'd sooner pack up and teach at Durmstrang than work for Albus Dumbledore.

"If you were to teach at Hogwarts, would you be willing to be a Head of House?" Dumbledore asked.

"I will look into my teacup and let you know directly."

China scraped against a plate and then Albus said, "Oh, I apologize. I thought you wanted a refill."

"Never mind," the teacher said in a dreamy sort of way. Then there was a long silence. Harry looked up at Snape who snapped his fingers at him to stay quiet.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ..."

A chill went through Snape.

Then suddenly Aberforth pounded up the stairs. "Did you find him?" he shouted out, much too loud.

The door burst open and Albus Dumbledore stared down at Snape and Harry. The interviewing teacher looked even more ridiculous than Snape had imagined. With bulging eyes behind large glasses, she appeared to be continually in another world.

"Eavesdropper!" she declared, pointing a bony finger at Snape.

"We came up the wrong stairs," Snape murmured, unable to look Dumbledore in the face. He flushed and pulled Harry close to him. "We were looking for the…" He trailed off, unable to come up with an excuse.

"Go on, then, Severus," he said coldly.

"Why doesn't he like you?" Harry asked when they were shuffling down the stairs.

"Quiet," Snape said, turning redder. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Dumbledore watching him. No doubt he had heard Harry and yet his frown had only grown more pronounced.

"Will I see you next term, Severus?" Dumbledore called after them.

"Only because I have to finish school eventually."

"Horace said you were a great help to him."

Snape turned. Dumbledore was still frowning.

"Would you consider coming to work as a teacher's assistant for the rest of this school year? I'm in desperate need of teachers."

The interviewing teacher clapped her hands together excitedly and her eyes, overlarge behind her magnified glasses, grew bigger.

"I noticed," Snape muttered.

Dumbledore cast a glance at Harry's ragged pants, the jeans Snape had tried desperately to mend with magic. "And it appears you're in desperate need as well."

Snape suppressed his rage. He felt it bubbling under the surface. He wanted to hurt Dumbledore, maybe even kill him, but Dumbledore's words were true. That hurt even worse.

"I'll see what I can do. It's not easy finding quality help when you have a child."

Dumbledore pursed his lips. Lily had been one of his favorite students. "Good day, Severus."

"It was," Snape shot back. "Come on, Harry, let's go buy some candy."

"What did that lady mean?" Harry asked once they were outside and he was skipping in the snow. "What does thrice mean?"

Snape held back a grin. "It means Longbottom's child isn't as stupid as I expected. He has power to defeat the Dark Lord and so it is my duty to inform the Dark Lord of this prophecy."

Harry stared at the snowflakes falling onto the shop roofs. "Does that mean you get to be in his club?"

Snape squeezed Harry's hand. "I think so." If he had known it would be the last time he would ever hold his boy's hand, he might have never let go.


	5. Goodbye, My Love

When Dumbledore contacted him through the Floo Network two days later about the teacher's assistant position, Snape refused. He would work at the Hog's Head and hide Harry under the counter but he wouldn't work for Dumbledore. When Dumbledore reminded him that he hadn't finished his seventh year at Hogwarts, they worked out a deal. Dumbledore would let him finish his seventh year as a student and work as a teacher's assistant when he wasn't in class. To help him catch up on the material he had missed during the first three months of the school year, he would stay on campus during Christmas break and until August the next year.

Snape returned to Hogwarts a week after overhearing the prophecy with the Dark Mark permanently branded on his forearm. He threw himself into his work to forget about Harry. Professor Slughorn declared him the finest maker of Potions "since Lily Evans left us." Snape had to bite his tongue to keep back a smart remark.

It was true, though: he was exceptionally skilled but he couldn't muster any pride. He was in a perpetually bad mood that began in March and lasted through July. He hadn't been able to catch Lily or Harry at Spinner's End through the Floo Network and was anticipating the return to see his son and quite possibly woo Lily away from James Potter. But Slughorn kept giving him more work and praising him until he thought he might gag.

When Snape finished his last assignment for his make-up work, Dumbledore called Snape up to his office. Snape gave the gargoyles the password and ran up the moving staircase. Dumbledore threw open the door seconds before Snape could knock. Snape bent over at the waist, panting, and Dumbledore frowned.

"Come in, Severus. Take a seat before you hurt yourself."

"I don't have a lot of time," Snape gasped his explanation as he lowered himself into a fluffy armchair across from Dumbledore's desk. "I haven't packed yet to go home."

"I understand. How are you doing with Harry?" Dumbledore grimaced as though asking the question only to be polite. Snape understood. Dumbledore was not his favorite person either.

"I'm fine. Harry's old enough now that I'm starting to enjoy being a father."

Dumbledore blinked. "Oh. I wasn't aware you would be holding custody of him now that Lily and James are…" He cleared his throat. "Married."

Snape had always known Dumbledore's office was magical. It was the only way to explain why the floor caved in and everything went dark and fuzzy at the same moment. "I wasn't invited to the wedding," he said dizzily. "I didn't know…"

"You didn't…?"

Snape's vision cleared slightly, enough to see Dumbledore furiously cleaning his glasses on his robes.

"I'm sorry, Severus. I thought you and Lily would have discussed…especially since you are the boy's father."

Snape squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back tears. When he opened them, Dumbledore was wagging a photograph in front of his face. It was of the wedding: Sirius Black grinned next to Potter. Lily basked in the love of her husband.

Lying his fiery face on Dumbledore's desk, Snape cursed quietly.

"I hear she just gave birth to a son."

A wave of dizziness hit Snape again. "Is this why you asked me to come to your office?" he asked harshly.

"No." Dumbledore stood and began pacing behind his desk. His long beard swung back and forth, making Snape dizzier than he already was. "I'd like you to work for me next school year. Horace is leaving the post of Potions Master."  
"Not Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Dumbledore turned and his eyes fell into shadow. Snape could barely see his reaction. Then he said quietly, "No, I think not. I can only offer you Potions."

"Albus," Snape said, relishing the way Dumbledore bristled when he heard his first name, "I'll only work for you because clothes and toys for four-year-olds are expensive. Believe me, if Harry wasn't so used to London, I would teach at Durmstrang."

Snape pushed his chair back and rose. "Now if you'll excuse me, I would much rather spend what is left of my summer with my child."

It was raining when he left Hogwarts. He had trudged halfway to Spinner's End when he remembered with a dull ache: Lily and James were married. They would have Harry with them at their house.

He tucked the ends of his soaked robes into his boots and whispered, "Point me." His wand swiveled in his hand.

It took nearly an hour to get there. As soon as he saw it, he drew in a sharp breath. A creaky gate separated Snape from the cozy house. Light flickered inside. Someone inside was practicing spells and although the curtains were drawn over the windows, Snape could imagine Potter showing off a new spell he'd learned.

_Git._

Ignoring the latch, he jumped over the fence. He slid on a patch of rain the last few feet and ran full force into the front door.

"What the--?" he heard from inside and the door opened.

Lily stood before him. She paled and tucked her hair behind her ears. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"Dumbledore told me you were married." He curled his lip. "I wonder…how does James feel about having Snape Junior in his house? I admit it's the only happiness your union brings me."

She had grown paler.

Snape shoved her aside, stepped inside the house and shut the door. She stared at him, eyes blank. "I'm not happy but you look terrible and I won't have you ill because of me."

She blinked.

He rolled his eyes. "Never mind. Where is Harry? Where is Potter, for that matter?"

She stirred, shaking her head slightly. "James is at the neighbors modifying their memories."

Snape snorted.

"He's an Auror," she grumbled but lacking the fierceness he was used to when he laughed at her.

"Where is Harry?"  
She looked away without answering and instead stared into the fire. Those green eyes were still so horribly blank.

A fist closed around Snape's heart. "Where is he?" He pulled his wand out barely aware he was pointing it at her. The tattoo on his arm burned. "What have you done, Evans?"

She sagged onto the couch. "Harry was never your son. James and I were messing around one day. It only happened once and he was the only boy I was ever with. But I got pregnant with Harry and I couldn't tell James. We weren't even friends then."

Snape felt like he'd been hit with a Jelly-Legs Curse. "It's all right," he said faintly. "I still love Harry like he's mine."

He rubbed his hands over his face. He suddenly remembered how Molly and Arthur had ribbed him about the "magical pregnancy." Maybe he'd realized then that it was improbable that he was the actual father but by then he had cared too deeply for Harry.

"I want to see him," he said in a stronger voice.

The strangled voice that came from Lily sounded nothing like her own. "You don't understand. He wasn't yours so I didn't think I had to consult with you to make a decision. After you left for Hogwarts in November, I had to do something with him, didn't I? I couldn't hide him from James anymore."

"What are you talking about?" Snape said even though images of Deaging Potion were flashing before his eyes. He heard Dumbledore's words playing back to him: "I hear she just gave birth to a son."

"Besides, I wanted Harry to grow up with his real parents and James would have missed out if he'd taken him in when he was three. So I gave him a Deaging Potion just so James would never need to know and Harry would never have to remember."

"Don't you dare!" Snape said roughly.

Then a wail sounded through the house. Snape yelled with rage. The wand he had pointed at Lily flashed. She threw her own wand up and the curse bounced off the wall. Plaster showered from the ceiling.

Lily pointed her wand at him and whispered something. For a moment, Snape felt nothing. Then Godric's Hollow began to fade. His body felt as though it were being squeezed through a tunnel.

He ended up in Spinner's End where he collapsed on the floor, screaming. His tattoo prickled with pain. "They're at Godric's Hollow, Master!" he yelled and then he passed out.


	6. Charlie Weasley

When Charlie Weasley started at Hogwarts in 1983, rumors circulated about why the new teacher, Snape the Snide was so horrible. Some students remembered seeing him at Hogsmeade with a child and thought maybe the child had died. It explained why he acted so miserable all the time. Other rumors weren't so sympathetic. Charlie's roommates told him that Snape would never have a child: he hated children and got a job at Hogwarts to torture them. When Snape mentioned he had invented the new Fingernail-Growing Potion, some fifth years suggested the ingredients included parts of students he had killed.

Charlie didn't quite understand why his friend Severus had changed so much. Long ago, his Potions professor would lift him and twirl him over his head like a helicopter. On sunny days only three years ago, he would hop on a broom and take Charlie, Bill, Percy, Fred, and George flying. He had sometimes made sarcastic comments but in Potions, he relished being cruel instead.

Charlie asked Bill about the change in Snape on the first day of Charlie's second month at Hogwarts. They were sitting on a bench just outside the Great Hall waiting for dinner.

"It's a front," Bill said. "Honestly, you are so dumb sometimes. Don't you remember when Lily came by and took Harry away?"

"Yeah, so?"

Bill rolled his eyes. "So Sev is angry because Lily married someone else and deaged Harry."

"But Harry was annoying. He always broke the stuff in my room and tried to tag along when we went flying."

A group of Slytherins rushed by laughing and burst through the doors to dinner.

"C'mon." Bill stood up and, straightening his tie, entered the Great Hall. Charlie hurried after him.

When they were seated at the Gryffindor table with hundreds of delicious dishes in front of them, Bill gestured at Snape. "You know how Mum always thinks we'll get homesick when we go off to Hogwarts but we never do?"

Charlie nodded.

"Well, grown-ups don't understand that. They always get homesick for their kids. They want their kids to be with them. He doesn't care that Harry was a big baby sometimes."

Charlie took a huge bite of ham while he tried to think. "He's a prat because he's homesick for Harry? That doesn't make any sense."

"His heart is broken, all right?" Bill said impatiently. He slid further down the table to talk to the Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"I'm not stupid," Charlie muttered, his ears burning. He turned to look at the head table where Snape sat. His head was down and he stared fixedly at his plate while Professor Sprout chattered in his ear. He looked exactly like the Snape who had come back from the shops grumbling because they were out of nappies.

When Snape left the Great Hall, Charlie threw down his napkin and ran after him. No one had shown him how to get to the Slytherin common room and if he didn't follow Snape now, he would never get a chance to talk with him alone.

"Severus!" he shouted down the hall when he caught a glimpse of a sweeping black robe.

Snape gripped the mug in his hand, turning his fingers white. "It's Professor Snape," he said icily.

"Not to me though," Charlie said, searching uneasily for a glimpse of normalcy.

"Yes, to you, Weasley. To everyone who attends this school. Now apologize to me."

His teeth were bared. He looked like a frenzied werewolf.

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape." The name felt clumsy on Charlie's tongue.

"Yelling inside the castle will be three points from Gryffindor. Now was there a reason for it?"

"Um, yes, sir." He had reached Snape's side and they stood only a few feet apart.

"Well, then?"

"Bill said your heart is broken."

Coffee sloshed out of Snape's mug and onto his hand. He yelped and muttered a foul word Molly didn't approve of.

"Are you all right?" Charlie pointed his wand at Snape's hand.

"Never mind, don't try to heal it. With a Weasley at the end of a wand, I'm bound to end up worse off than before."

Charlie blinked at Snape. What was that supposed to mean? Since when had Snape ridiculed their family?

Snape peered down his nose. "Bill is misinformed. My heart is not broken because I no longer have a heart."

Charlie thought he should laugh; wasn't he attempting to make a joke? But Snape's eyes had gotten shiny and Charlie was scared. As he hurried down the hall, he heard Severus call after him, "Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasel."

"SEVERUS SNAPE!" boomed out of the Howler. Flushing, Snape sunk into his seat. If he had recognized the red envelope for what it was, he would have fled the Great Hall. As it was, the hundred or so students who were still lingering over breakfast stared at him in shock.

"I hope you're doing well, dear. Arthur and I send our best. HOWEVER," she went on in a louder voice. "DON'T YOU EVER USE A WORD LIKE THAT AGAIN IN FRONT OF OUR SON. YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THAT AND I KNOW YOU NEVER TALKED THAT WAY IN FRONT OF HARRY. And if you did, that's your own business because I would never tell you how to raise your own child. BUT IF I HEAR MENTION OF _THAT WORD_ AGAIN, I WILL PERSONALLY COME UP THERE AND FIRE YOU MYSELF. But Bill tells me he's been enjoying your classes, dear, and I hope you're not assigning too much homework because they want a chance to fly. You know how much they love to fly because you used to fly with them. Oh dear, now I'm rambling on and on. Have a good year and stop by for some pie if you get a chance. I know it's been much too long."

The Howler disappeared in a puff of smoke. There was a long silence and then the room erupted into cheers. Clearly, they thought it was an elaborate prank set up by a stupid seventh year.

Snape jumped out of his chair, his face purple with rage. The other teachers had already disappeared to their own classrooms to set up for the day.

"SHUT UP!" he yelled, his voice louder than any Howler. The Great Hall stilled and Snape drew in a breath. He scanned the room quickly for a Weasley but none of them were in there. He was glad: he wasn't looking forward to receiving another Howler.

"I will assign detention to anyone who does not go to their classes immediately. And each person who discusses this Howler will lose their House ten points."

Students scrambled to stuff food into their mouths before rushing off to their classes. Three Gryffindors barely made it outside the doors of the Great Hall when Severus heard thirty rubies rattle out of their House's hourglass. He smirked.

Slowly, Snape gained the students' respect. He attempted to enjoy being around his own Slytherins but everytime he made a joke or high-fived one for a good grade, a deep sense of despair came over him. After three years, he stopped forming bonds with the students altogether. It hurt too much.

The years passed. Snape continued to teach and eventually removed the photo of Harry from his bedside table. Every once in a while, Albus would be polite and say things such as, "I went to see Harry today. He's small for his age" or "He has an extensive vocabulary for six" or "I don't believe his aunt has told him he's a wizard." Snape pretended the information didn't affect him but when no one was watching, he would get on his broom and fly for hours.

And then the year came. There was a buzz around the Hogwarts grounds: an excited buzz. No one dreaded the year Harry Potter would come to Hogwarts. No one except Severus Snape.


	7. Harry Potter Comes to Hogwarts

Snape stared at the desks in front of him and then his gaze fell to his hands. Desks and hands, both empty. His heart, too. He was thirty-one; this was his eleventh year to teach at Hogwarts and he still had the same reaction every year on the first day of classes. Emptiness.

This year was different. This year, when he looked down at the hands that were supposed to hold tight to a three-year-old's, he felt rage. Harry Potter started at Hogwarts this year. He was eleven now, when he should have been fourteen.

He had a job that provided housing and food and a chance to share his knowledge, but it had come at a high price. If he had not returned to Hogwarts for his final year, he wouldn't have lost Harry. He was convinced of that.

Lily would never have deaged his son—James's son—if he had refused to desert him for that final year at Hogwarts.

This year, as he had every year since the deaging, Snape went to the Hogwarts library and scanned the shelves for information about magical pregnancies. As Arthur had told him years ago, they didn't exist. Wizards got witches pregnant the same way Muggles did.

The heavy dungeon doors banged open and Snape's first class dawdled through the doors. Neville Longbottom, the stupid boy the prophecy almost applied to, hung behind the group.

"To your seats!" Snape ordered. Feet scurried, desks scraped, and twenty-nine pairs of eyes stared up at him. The pair on the second row unnerved him. Lily's eyes…Harry.

He swallowed around a lump in his throat. This is what his son would have looked like at eleven. He could have walked him to the Hogwarts Express.

There was a buzz in the room.

Snape shook his head. This wasn't what his son _would have _looked like. This was him, four years younger, with different life experiences and a different set of guardians.

The murmur intensified.

"Silence!" He launched into his first day lecture. Twenty-nine heads swiveled to follow him. An obnoxious girl seated near Harry copied down every word he had to say and appeared to be cross-referencing everything from a different textbook.

_Insufferable know-it-all._

He stopped short when he felt Harry's eyes on him. He wondered how much Harry remembered. What a scene he would make kneeling beside Harry's desk and whispering, "I'm proud of you." But he wasn't proud of this boy. He was bloody miserable and wished this boy had never existed so that his son could. The fact that they were the same was too much for his first-day-of-school brain to handle.

His eyes grazed Harry's scrawny frame and he wondered if the stupid Muggles had given him enough to eat.

He launched into his first day speech. Years ago, he'd had a different first day speech. He used to explain how potions was an exact science, how it could never be changed. Then he would tell the students how other areas of magic could be distorted—creating something out of nothing, transformation, and…prophecies. He'd explain how prophecies could never be trusted. How a fool of a man had brought about the death of his own son through a terrible combination of Deaging Potion and misinterpretation of a prophecy.

Dumbledore had asked him to address the students differently. He said it depressed them.

So he said new things to these students so as not to depress them: "_I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."_

_Harry flinched at the word "dunderheads" and then raised his head defiantly. Something within Snape struggled. He was proud of Harry's will to prove he was not a dunderhead, but at the same time, his stubbornness drove him insane. It was as though he were two again, staring Snape down through the window when Snape was freezing outside the locked door at Spinner's End._

_He took points from him—his own child. He felt terribly guilty so he acted surlier to dispel that bothersome emotion. When he dismissed his first class, he stood taller and even managed to make a first-year girl cringe when he glared at her as she walked out the door._

_Harry, though, he was different. He scowled at Snape and ran to join Ron, the one born after Snape had lost touch with the Weasleys. Snape refused to cower to that! He stormed after the boys and when he felt their eyes on him, he made an impressive show of sweeping his gradebook open and marking things down._

Harry jumped out of the way when he saw that great bat of a professor swooping in behind him.

Ron's mouth gaped open when Snape opened his gradebook. "He's going to mark us down. Fred and George said he would hate me."

A packet slid out of the front pocket of the gradebook. Snape continued on, seeming not to notice.

Harry and Ron looked at each other at the same moment. Ron broke into a grin. "You reckon it's got answers to our first test?"

They ran toward it and Ron picked it up first. It was unsealed, so he peeked into it. "Aw," he said, disappointed. "It's just photos of a house." He handed them to Harry. "Look, it's not even as big as the Burrow. You can tell because…"

Ron kept talking but Harry couldn't hear him. He was staring at the photographs. He recognized the house. There was a big bedroom with a crib in the corner. He remembered standing on the edge of the crib bars when he learned to climb and a man picking him up and carrying him to bed with him.

"This is my house!" Harry said excitedly. "This was where my mum and dad lived. My dad used to carry me to bed."

Ron peered over his shoulder, now curious, and pointed to the living room. "Do you remember there?"

Studying the ratty couch and the cauldron on the coffee table, memory dawned on Harry. "Yeah, I do. Mum read to me on that couch." He looked at the front door and a strange memory, a memory that didn't match, popped into his mind. He remembered his mum always leaving through that door, he remembered asking why his mum wasn't coming back.

He looked up to see Ron surveying him with a shocked expression.

"Are you all right, mate? You look awful."

Harry's knees were shaking. "I'm all right. It's the pictures. I'd forgotten…I couldn't remember my mum and dad before."

"Why did _Snape_ have your pictures?" Ron asked distastefully.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe he wanted to give them to me," he said, but he thought that as likely as Snape deciding to throw a party during class.

"Let's go see if we can sneak some brooms out of the broomshed," Ron said and with the prospect of flying, Harry stuffed the pictures in his bag and forgot all about them.

On Friday, Harry walked to Potions with a determined step. Snape was not going to get to him today.

When he walked into class ten minutes early, Snape only said, "Start on your essay, Potter."

When had he assigned an essay? Harry stared at him but saw nothing in those coal black eyes. He huffed and pulled out his parchment. He wasn't about to ask Snape what essay he was talking about. Instead, he hunched over the parchment and pretended to write.

Snape sniffed and turned his back to wave his wand at the chalkboard. The day's date appeared in the upper right corner.

Somehow the pictures of Harry's home had fallen out of his sack. He bent to retrieve them when suddenly a dark shadow fell over him.

"Stealing, Potter?"

The voice was angry and very nearly demented.

Harry shrank back in his chair. "I didn't steal them from you," he said weakly.

Snape's palms pounded onto Harry's desk. "How did they come to be out of my gradebook?"

"They fell out," Harry said. He straightened, finding it hard to do with Snape's nose nearly touching his. "But they're pictures of MY house!"

Snape stepped back at this. For a second, Harry saw a waver of fear in his eyes and then he sneered. "Indeed. And what a hovel it is. Tell me, did James Potter build this crude crib with his bare hands?"

Harry glowered at Snape, knowing he hated him much more than Snape could ever dream of hating him. "How would I know? He died when I was…" His voice fell away. He had suddenly recalled a horribly embarrassing memory, one of his father toilet-training him. But James had died when Harry was only fifteen months old. And he hadn't even been talking then but he remembered carrying on full conversations with a black-haired man who smiled a lot.

Snape was grinning widely like a jackal who had just killed its prey.

Harry hated him.

"Incidentally, I saw the lock on the broomshed had been jimmied." (Harry sucked in a breath.) "Since first years aren't permitted to fly, that will be twenty points from each Gryffindor involved."

Harry tried not to listen as forty rubies rattled down the Gryffindor hourglass.

Snape's lips formed a thin line. "In addition, breaking into the broomshed carries the penalty of fifty points each. With detention."

"Detention?" Harry exclaimed. He hadn't meant to say it aloud and hated that Snape's eyes glowed with pleasure.

"Yes, my office. Tonight at seven. Do not be late."

Harry glared at his desk. Why did Snape hate him so much?

"Oh, yes. Tell Weasley--" Snape's glare disappeared and he actually looked flustered. "Rather, the skinny one with bad skin, that he has detention with Argus Filch."


	8. The Magical Park

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ..."_

_When he repeated back the prophecy to Lily, her eyes went huge._

_"This is your fault, Lil," Snape yelled. He was unable to understand his grief at losing the boy he had loved and lashed out in anger instead. "It would never have applied to Harry if you hadn't deaged him. It was supposed to be Frank and Alice's."_

_Lily paled. "You'd let another child die?"_

_"It should be Frank and Alice's!" he repeated._

"_What a teacher you'll make," Lily said sarcastically, stepping off the front porch. "I'm sending Harry to Durmstrang."_

_"I only want my son back!"  
_Snape sat up, gasping, throwing off his blankets. He was in his office on a chair he'd Transfigured into a bed. His room was bright and someone was sitting in the chair beside his desk.

"You said not to be late," Harry said, raising his chin.

Snape wanted to kill him. "Give me those pictures back."

Harry scratched his head. "I ran into Percy on the way to detention. He said this is your house not mine."

"Not everything in this great world belongs to you, the Golden Boy."

He rolled his eyes. "I know that. But you called this place a hovel."

"Regrettably, it is, but Lily and James's place was much worse. It must be true, home is where the heart is."

Harry threw down the pictures. "Then I guess these show what your heart looks like."

Snape studied him for a long moment. "Yes, Potter. That is a very empty house." He turned on his heel and talked to the wall. "You will be scrubbing cauldrons tonight. I'll decide when you leave."

He hurried Harry into the storeroom where he'd put the dirty cauldrons and slammed the door on him.

Over an hour later, he had graded several essays, doling out plenty Dreadfuls and only one Outstanding (it belonged to Percy Weasley who wrote over a foot about cauldron bottoms alone).

Surprisingly, he had just finished writing the 'O' at the top of the parchment when Molly and Arthur Weasley stepped through the fireplace.

Arthur had his hat in his hands and was nervously curling the brim.

Molly touched Snape's hand and with a twinkle in her eye, she said, "I sent you a letter six or so years ago."

Snape smirked. "I got it."

"Severus," Arthur began, "While I was at work, Lucius Malfoy told me Ron had broken into the broomshed."

Snape nodded curtly. "He's serving detention tonight with Filch."

Molly's eyes filled with tears. "We had another reason to come here."

Snape stared at the stack of essays so they wouldn't see the tears in his eyes but Molly put her hand under his chin and lifted it. He stared resolutely at her nose.

"How is he doing?"

Harry had scrubbed thirty cauldrons and was sure Snape had forgotten about him. He was about to knock on the door to be let out when he heard voices. Hmm, so they were Ron's parents.

"How is he doing?" Molly asked.

"Fair," Snape said. "But his temper is abominable."

Harry heard Molly laugh. "His mother used to have that same temper."

"Even when he was three," Arthur said. "Severus, do you recall when he locked you out of your house?"

Harry pressed his ear against the door but heard nothing except suppressed laughter which sounded like Molly.

"Everything that irritated me about him still irritates me now."

Harry couldn't imagine why the Weasleys listened so calmly to a teacher call Ron irritating.

A chair scraped against the floor. Footsteps sounded. Snape must be pacing. Harry wondered if this was a good time to knock.

"Have you told him he's your son?"

Harry's hand fell to his side. His face flamed red. But wait… Ron looked nothing like Snape and exactly like Arthur.

"Of course not!" The footsteps stopped. "He was never my child. She lied to me so I would take care of him for her. I thought even a Weasley might remember that much."

There was a flash of light—Harry saw it through the crack of the door—and then Molly said, "Severus Snape, you were always a lovely boy, so don't disappoint us just because you're hurting."

"I'm—not—hurting," Snape said with great effort. The emotion was raw in his voice. "I'm angry. Lily gave me her child and took him away at the very moment I couldn't let him go. And now he's a Potter."

Harry fell against the wall. His cheeks flushed. Now he knew why he remembered that house. He'd lived in Snape's house, had been raised by Snape until…until his parents died?

"We banned Deaging Potion as an illegal substance at the Ministry," Arthur offered.

_Oh._ That's why he remembered being three twice.

"That doesn't help me much now, does it, Arthur?" Snape said.

"I thought it might," Arthur said softly. "I'm sorry we couldn't do more. With Lily and James dead, you can't possibly argue for custody of Harry."

"I don't want custody of Harry. Have you seen him? He's the spitting image of James Potter."

"He was your child once," Molly admonished.

"Stop saying that! I never had any—believe me, _not any_—relationship with Lily Potter. He's not my son."

"Explaining this to Harry might help," Arthur suggested.

The footsteps started again. "No, it wouldn't. He likes things in order, always has, and if I told him, it would ruin what he's believed all his life."

He said it with such certainty that Harry caught his breath.

Molly had tears in her eyes when she said, "Severus…"

"Please go."

"Are you going to cry?" Molly asked.

"Absolutely not."

Harry heard them swoop away through the Floo Network. He settled onto a stack of newspapers to go to sleep. After eavesdropping on that, he wasn't about to stroll through Snape's office. He would wait until he left and sneak out.

The only sound he heard for the next half-hour was the sweep of a quill across parchment. Then the door banged open and Snape was gone.

Snape found himself in a familiar park. The swings were twisted over the bar so little kids couldn't reach them; litter spilled out of a trashbin that Snape had never taken notice of before. He twirled once on the merry-go-round but the foul language scribbled in marker on the floor bothered him too much. It surprised him he'd never noticed the griminess of the park before. The place had always seemed magical.

He spun around to find the place where he had first seen Lily. The beautiful flowers he had been replaced—or had they always been weeds with a few ugly petals on them?

Flipping the swing over the bar several times, he got it to his height and sat on it. The sun was starting to disappear on the horizon. He thought of the boy with the lightning bolt scar back at Hogwarts but he couldn't dispel the thought of a boy squealing on his lap as they swung back and forth at this park.

Anger burned inside him when he thought of the woman who took that joy away from him. Lily had lied to him, manipulated him, and took his only happiness from him. He could have married her and raised a child with her but she took it all away.

Yet under the glow of the setting sun at that magical park, he couldn't dwell long on that Lily, the one who had made too many mistakes in her life.

He thought of the red-haired girl who floated like an angel off the swings. He'd loved her from the first moment he saw her and when he thought of his ten-year-old eagerness, a part of his heart ached. He missed childhood where being a Mudblood didn't matter and days were spent making daisy chains and declaring lifelong friendship.

The ten-year-old inside Snape was still in love with the Lily he remembered and he knew no matter how angry he got, he could never hate her. On the contrary, he knew he would love her forever, no matter what.

She'd given him friendship and she'd given him a son: a boy who glared daggers at him, hugged him, and loved him in return. He knew he'd love him forever, no matter what.

"Severus?"

Albus Dumbledore strode toward Snape, his robes dusting along the ground as he walked.

It was then Snape realized tears were streaming from his eyes. He turned his head away.

"He's a delightful child. You should be proud of what you did for him."

"He's not mine," Snape said shakily, staring hard at the wilting weeds.

"Oh, Severus. I'm so sorry."

Snape slumped in the swing. He couldn't hold back his frustration anymore, and tears rushed down his cheeks. His shoulders shook silently until he could no longer hold back his sobs and then he cried into his hands. His wails echoed off the hills.

"Forgive them," Dumbledore whispered. "You have to forgive them."

Snape wiped his nose on his sleeve before a fresh set of tears attacked him. "I have," he choked. "Even James."

And that's how Snape learned to forgive, sitting at the magical park just as the sun started to sink behind the mill.


	9. Face to Face

It was well past midnight but Snape still sat awake in his office, drumming a quill against his desk.

"You have to forgive them," Dumbledore had said. And Snape had. Sitting at that park where he held so many memories, he'd realized he had to do something about his anger. Keeping a grudge against two not-so-innocent people who had been dead for ten years would only hurt Snape. So he'd forgiven them, had taken the high road. He had done the same when Lily brought Harry to him. Even with doubts about who Harry's father really was, he had taken the baby in because it was the right thing to do.

He blew out a frustrated breath. After he had stopped crying at the park, Dumbledore asked him to think about protecting Harry now that he was at Hogwarts. Snape told Dumbledore he'd think about it. So here he sat, fiddling with a broken quill and trying to avoid taking the high road.

"Albus Dumbledore, I swear if you were standing here right now..." he muttered and red light flashed out of his wand. A jar of toad hearts exploded and splattered over his desk. He cursed and rose from his chair to mop it up.

"This is all your fault, Albus," he growled. "I said I forgave Lily and James...because at least they're dead. But I don't have to forgive you." He threw open his storeroom to grab a cleaning potion and his stomach dropped into his shoes. Harry Potter was asleep in the closet.

He slammed the door closed. He'd been thinking about Harry too much lately. This was a figment of his imagination, a bad combination of grief and lack of sleep. Had he had any firewhisky lately?

Cracking the door open again, he saw green eyes blinking sleepily at him. He pulled it open all the way. He was rattled. Only an hour before, he had wept his heart out over this same child. And now here he sat, clearly stealing from Snape's stores.

"What the hell are you doing in my closet?" he yelled.

Harry flinched. "You left me here. I was cleaning cauldrons."

Snape's stomach clenched. He'd done it again. This was not the first time he had punished an innocent child out of bitterness. There was Nymphadora Tonks who he'd blasted out a window when she turned her eyes the exact shade of green Harry's were. He'd taken two hundred points from Colin Weeble when he discovered how Levicorpus worked. And when those Weasley children--every single one of them--mentioned theirs and Snape's shared history, Snape gave them detention with Filch.

He shook his head. Harry was staring at him.

"How long have you been here, Potter?"

"Since seven." He yawned. "May I go to bed now?"

Snape couldn't look at him. The face was too familiar, but so much older. He could even recall how Harry smelled when he was an infant. "It's 'sir', Potter," Snape said.

"Professor Dumbledore might ignore your disrespect but I will not."

"I'm respectful to Professor Dumbledore, sir," Harry said defensively. "I like him."

It was as though Harry had said he was going to join with Voldemort. Snape bit his tongue until he thought it would bleed. He hated Albus Dumbledore but he refused to speak badly about him in front of the students. "Very well," he forced out. "It appears Professor Dumbledore respects you in return, much more than you deserve."

"Don't you like Professor Dumbledore? You look like someone put a Stomach Twisting Curse on you."

"That is none of your concern." He glared at Harry. "Didn't anyone teach you manners?"

Harry shrank back. "I don't know, sir. I thought you raised me."

Snape blinked at Harry, feeling the color rise in his cheeks. "You inherited one thing from me," he said quietly. "You always know the wrong thing to say at the worst possible moment."

They stared at each other for a long time. Snape didn't know about Harry but he couldn't think of anything to say.

Finally, he rubbed his nose. He was the adult here. "Go to your room, Potter."

"But--"

"I told you to go to your room," he said sternly. "And to call me sir."

Harry stood up. "Yes, sir."

Snape hurried Harry out of his office. He did not want to talk to his son about this. He knew what would happen. Harry had been abused by the Muggles, anyone could see that. He was too skinny for his age and Dumbledore's reports had been grim. And since he had been abused, he would latch onto Snape. Snape didn't need that. He didn't want to raise Potter's son. He'd already done that once and anyone could see how poorly that had gone.

Just this evening, he'd claimed to have forgiven Lily and James for taking his baby away. He'd been bitter far too long and it was a release to give up that bitterness. But to let Harry back into his life again? Insanity! Over the last several years, he'd done everything he could to build walls around himself so that no one could ever break in. He would treat Harry the same as every other child with the perfect mix of detatchment and sarcasm.

He had his answer for Dumbledore's request to protect Harry Potter. Yes, he would protect him. But he would never love him like he once had.

He left the frog hearts spilled over his desk and went to bed. He would talk to Dumbledore tomorrow.


	10. Dumbledore

The moving staircase to Dumbledore's office had been jinxed. When Snape stepped on it, it lurched forward at professional Quidditch player speed and nearly threw Snape into the wall. Drawing in a quick breath, he managed to grab onto the handrail. Suddenly, the stairs were rushing backwards and he fell past the gargoyles onto his bum in a crowd of confused students.

They giggled and Snape pointed his wand at them. "Deten--" he began but was rudely interrupted by one of the gargoyles speaking in Dumbledore's voice: "Severus, would you be so kind as to leave your wand at the foot of the stairs? My staircase is quite touchy today and reacts badly to unicorn hair."

Snape let out a growl. His wand was like an extra arm and he'd sooner cut one of those off than give up his wand. He shoved it back into his robes and grabbed the staircase tightly. It jerked back up to Dumbledore's office and just as it was about to shift backwards, he jumped off, kicked the door open mid-air, and floated into a seat in front of Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore's eyebrows lifted above his glasses. "I've rarely seen someone fly without a broomstick with the exception of Tom Riddle."

Setting his jaw, Snape said, "Lily Evans did it all her life." He adjusted his robes and repeated more firmly, "You wanted to see me?"

"I asked if you would look after Harry for me. Protect him and guide him while he is at school. Do you have an answer?"

Snape leaned back in his chair lifting the chair legs off the ground. He knew it was entirely inappropriate to be so disrespectful to his employer, which is why he felt so much joy in doing it. "I will look after H--him, provided you keep your nose out of things."

There was a long silence. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, twittered on his perch.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I must be informed of what is going on."

Snape thought he would explode with anger. He dragged his fingers through his hair, giving him a crazed look. "Why?" he shouted. "Why must you be informed of every bloody thing that goes on in the wizarding world? Are you the oldest wizard? Hmm, no I think that would be my Aunt Mildred and she's survived poisoning three times." He stood, pacing. "Are you the wisest wizard? I would hope not since you never, ever get anything right. You aren't even the one with the ability to defeat the Dark Lord because that lies in the hands of an eleven-year-old boy."

Dumbledore eyed Snape patiently. "Are you finished?"

Snape picked up the Sneakoscope from Dumbledore's desk and hurled it against the wall. It shattered. "NO! Why do you think you can control the lives of me and Potter and...Merlin knows who else you're manipulating? You killed my son! You had to have known everything that was going on. You even had Lily and James's wedding picture on your desk!" A chill came over him. "Did you hand deliver the Deaging Potion to them? Show them how to administer it?"

"Severus, you're overreacting."

"NO I'M NOT!" Snape was breathing hard and had to sit down so he could get his words out. "Just because you could never love anyone in your miserable life does not mean I'm overreacting."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "Then you do love Harry."

Snape looked away, his Dark Mark burning as it did when his rage was powerful enough to kill someone. Somehow he had lost control of this conversation, and as usual, Dumbledore had betrayed nothing: no feeling, no emotion, no truth. He'd just manipulated the conversation so he could dig deeper into Snape's heart and wound him.

Snape hated him.

"I will take care of Potter for you. I will make sure the stupid boy doesn't kill himself before he graduates. And I will give Minerva regular updates, since she is his Head of House." His nostrils flared. "But I will not give him private lessons every evening to help him defeat the Dark Lord. I will not rock him to sleep when he has a nightmare. And I will not love him."

"I thought you said you'd forgiven them." Dumbledore's tone was chastising and very, very disappointed.

Words froze on Snape's tongue. Someday, he thought, but not yet. When he rose from his chair, he forced himself to be polite. "Have a good morning, Albus."

"You do the same, Severus. Be careful on that staircase since I see you still have your wand with you."

Snape was at the door. He turned to show Dumbledore exactly what his wand could do, but the staircase chose that moment to send him tumbling down. He looked up and one of the gargoyles yawned at him.

Bruised and embarrassed, Snape strode up to Gryffindor tower. He would find Minerva and let her know about his plan to look after Potter. It was better, he thought, for her to hear it from him than from Dumbledore. Dumbledore would tell it in an overly emotional way and Minerva would cry and give Snape motherly looks. He didn't need that. He was not going to love Harry. He was going to protect him. There was a huge difference.

He gave the Fat Lady the password and stepped into the Gryffindor common room. The Weasley twins, the youngest Weasley, and Potter were sprawled in front of the fireplace looking over their homework.

"Just make something up, she won't notice," Ron said.

Snape smirked, trying to catch a glimpse of the textbook they were looking at. Divination. Ron and Harry were leaning over the twins' homework, ignoring their own Potions homework.

"Yeah," said Harry.

George tapped his quill against his chin. "Harry, what do you dream about?"

Harry bit his lip. Snape could just see the side of his face from where he stood. "Just, you know, the Dursleys and stuff. But that won't impress old Trelawney."

"Huh," Ron said then he sat up. "I know! You dreamed Snape poisoned everyone. And since Trelawney's always thinking things will come true, maybe that'll be enough to get him sacked."

"Or maybe," Snape said, stepping forward so they could see him, "you could have a nightmare that your Potions Master stepped into your common room and docked each of you twenty points each for his pure delight."

Somewhere in the castle, the rubies were decreasing from the Gryffindor hourglass. Snape smiled. The younger boys on the other hand, were pale and shaking. Fred and George, on the other hand, didn't look too bothered so Snape planned to give them extra homework next class.

"How--how did you get in?" Harry said.

"I got the password at our staff meeting. Surely you don't think we only discuss the staff room's uncomfortable chairs, do you?" Snape's stomach tightened as soon as he made the joke. He had sounded too friendly and it made him feel vulnerable. And Ron looked too relaxed.

"Why are you studying Divination anyway? Get your Potions essays written," he barked, turning his voice frosty. "If you haven't started on them yet, I daresay I'll have to drop your grade to a 'D' so you'll take your studies more seriously." He smirked, trying to ignore the hurt look on Harry's face. "That is, only if your essay doesn't merit a 'T' to begin with."

That got to Harry. His expression grew closed and Snape felt his heart returning to its regular inpenetrable self. He felt much better.

"Have you seen Professor McGonagall?" he asked.

Ron's eyebrows drew together. "No, sir. She's never in the common room."

A flutter of embarrassment tugged at Snape and he fought to control it. If he refused to admit to himself that he had only come up here to see Harry, then Harry would never figure out his true motives. That put him more at ease.


	11. More than Useless

Snape brushed his greasy hair out of his face and sighed. He'd been perched behind this rock for an hour now and his leg was starting to cramp. In his lap was a quill and parchment to record information about Potter. He glanced down at it. So far, he had written, "Potter has no social skills." This was based on the fact that Potter, Granger, and Weasley had been studying in the grass for an hour and Potter had not spoken one word.

Potter turned another page of the text he was reading. Then he finally spoke. "Is hellebore magical or do Muggles know what it is?"

Weasley laughed, then flushed beet red at the moment he seemed to realize Potter was serious.

Snape rolled his eyes. Lovely friends you have there, Harry, he thought.

Granger was prattling something ridiculous about hellebore. She was giving Snape a splitting headache. He wrote on the parchment, "Granger is insufferable. How does H. put up with her?" then began doodling a thestral next to it.

Professor McGonagall had put him up to following Potter. According to McGonagall, Neville Longbottom had come to her saying that Granger, Potter, and Weasley had been talking about the philosopher's stone. It had worried her they might get a crazy notion to find it for themselves. And since that beast of a man Hagrid could never keep his mouth shut, she assumed they would discover it was at Hogwarts.

Eleven-year-olds did not pose a threat to the safety of the stone. But Snape had promised he would protect Potter so here he sat on one side of a rock, Potter on the other.

"Then what is hellebore used for?" Potter asked.

"Invisibility when it's powdered," Weasley replied, surprising Snape. Granger was giving him a similar look of shock.

Potter grinned and rolled onto his back. "I think my dad used some when we played hide and seek. He was there and then he sprinkled powder and he was gone. I couldn't find him anywhere."

Snape felt a pang of remembrance. The memory came back to him with shocking clarity.

"Your...dad?" Granger said with a look of pity that made Snape want to vomit.

"Yeah. At least, I think it was..." Potter's face went white. "Maybe not," he said quietly.

Snape sneered at the expression on Potter's face. So Potter had remembered it was Snape and not dear ol' dad who had played hide and seek with him. And the very thought of it had made him blanch in terror. Well, if he was going to feel that way about it, Snape was glad he had been taken away by Lily.

In anger, he scribbled a note on his parchment, "Potter is rude and disrespectful to adults. His Head of House should seek appropriate punishment." Then in case Minerva laughed in his face, Snape added spitefully, "And he makes fun of said Head of House behind her back." That would get Minerva in a towering rage if nothing else he wrote did.

He knew it wasn't what she asked for. She wanted to make sure Potter was safe, that he wasn't plotting to sneak down and get the stone for himself. She wasn't concerned about his behavior as long as it didn't affect her. But Snape was bored. Potter was clearly in no danger at Hogwarts. The gates had on them ancient spells that even Dumbledore could not lift. Even so, Voldemort was not likely to stroll up to the front gates and request entrance.

He wanted to do something more important. If he was to protect the Boy Who Lived, he wanted to do something meaningful, to die for him or rescue him from imprisonment. Not follow him around with a quill and watch him study for a test.

He wondered if anyone was preparing him for his future. Did he even know he would be forced to face Voldemort at some point in his life?

Snape shook his head. This was crazy. He didn't want to be in the boy's life anymore. He'd done that once and it had turned out badly. But the thought still nagged at him. What if he were the one to teach Potter how to defend himself? He could give him private lessons: teach him Occlumency, defense, and strategy. He could prove to Lily and James, to Dumbledore, and to himself that he hadn't been a worthless father. That the four years he'd raised Harry—Potter, rather—had meant something.

He looked at Harry. The breeze was ruffling the hair that Snape had once thought he'd inherited from him. He knew now that he looked every bit James and nothing like Snape.

Snape stepped out from behind the rock, waiting a moment so the three would not realize he'd been spying on them the entire time. "Potter, just the boy I needed to see."

"S-s-sir?" Potter blanched again.

Snape hated him for it. "I'd like to talk with you apart from your...friends." He paused to allow Granger and Weasley to appreciate the insult. The stricken look on their faces let him know he'd achieved his goal. He smirked.

When they had walked a short distance away, Snape said shortly, "I have something to discuss with you. I'll need you to meet me at Hogsmeade this weekend without your friends."

Potter looked as though he'd been forced to swallow a vat of lacewing flies. "What's wrong with Hogwarts?"

Snape lifted his lip in a sneer. "That is none of your concern, Potter. What matters is that there are people here who would find it suspicious that a teacher and student are talking."

"Who?"

"I have ignored the fact that you have not called me 'sir' twice." Snape sniffed. "If you do not respect your teachers, you will be losing points from your House."

"But, sir--"

"This conversation is over." He looked at the castle and could see a faint shadow in Dumbledore's office window. He pointed a finger at Potter to look more menacing should Dumbledore be watching. "I will see you at Hogsmeade."


	12. The Meeting at Gladrags

Saturday was an anxious morning for Harry. He spilled his pumpkin juice three times at breakfast and the clock moved so slowly toward 10:30, he assumed it must have been bewitched.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron kept asking, and Hermione suggested he take three different potions.

Feeling nervous and grumpy, Harry snapped at her, "You don't even know how to make a Draught of Peace. You're a first year."

She tossed her bushy head and buried her nose in a book. "At least I'll be prepared for our O.W.L.s," she said in a snippy tone.

At 10:00, Harry told Ron and Hermione he was going to detention and stormed out the front doors.

He might not have been in such a sour mood if he had known where Snape was at that moment. After spending six hours the previous evening grading papers, Snape had fallen into bed and was still there having a very pleasant dream. In his dream, Hagrid had brought a fire-breathing dragon into the castle which burnt the tapestries to a crisp. Dumbledore had no choice but to close the school (at this point, Snape got a sneaking suspicion that he was having a dream) and Snape made plans to spend his time off crossing Europe on foot.

Then his charmed clock jangled and reminded him, "It's time to meet Harry Potter at Hogsmeade."

He jolted awake, still holding onto the feeling of freedom and the smell of the fresh countryside. The feelings vanished the instant he saw his drab curtains, the piles of papers beside his bed marked with "T"s and the dark, grimy skylight that would have let in sunlight if he ever had time to clean it.

He looked at his clock, and swearing, he threw on his robes and hurried out into the warm day. Fred and George were floating on their broomsticks, chatting with each other so fast Snape thought they might fall off.

"Oy," George said when they saw Snape flapping in their direction, "no matter how Bill defends him, you mark my words, that man will give us detention just for being here."

Chills ran down Snape's spine. _Bill defended him_? He turned to the Weasleys. Despite everything within him that begged him not to converse with students, he wanted to know how Bill was doing. Under the Cruciatus curse, he might even admit that he missed the older two Weasley boys.

Before he could even think of the right words to say, Fred and George had zoomed off. George was whooping and shouting that he he had dodged a detention.

Anger boiled inside him. He was convinced the Marauders had laid a curse on him that would never lift. Students went to Minerva in the middle of the night when they had a bad dream. Pomona Sprout helped students with their homework after classes were out. And Severus Snape? Students either fled from him in terror or they mocked him and called him a great greasy bat.

"What did I do that offended you so?" he growled at the Weasleys' retreating forms. "Or was it more the fact that I exist?"

His altruistic approach to Harry had all but disappeared. He wanted to be curled up in bed, hiking across Europe in his dreams.

When he got to Hogsmeade, he was already half an hour late. He peeked in the windows of Gladrags Wizardwear where he had asked Harry to meet him. It was in a private location and Howarts students never came in until their robes started to wear out, around springtime. Harry was in the back of the shop, rifling through the racks of second-hand robes. He was admiring a dark blue robe and didn't even look up when the bell above the door chimed.

"Second-hand, Potter?" Snape said into Harry's ear, smirking when he jumped.

"They still look nice," he said in a surprisingly defensive tone for someone who was raised by... come to think of it, Snape wasn't quite sure who had raised Harry after Lily and James had died. Dumbledore had only told him that they took good care of Harry. Was it James's rich parents?

That must be it, Snape decided. James had always come to school with new robes and shiny cauldrons and Harry arrived at Hogwarts much the same way. From the other teachers, Snape had heard rumors about just how much money Harry had saved away at Gringotts.

"Professor?" came a mousy voice and Snape blinked, embarrassed that he hadn't been paying attention.

The owner of the mousy voice—Julius Gladrags himself—was hobbling toward him on a cane. "Have you come to buy your boy some new robes?"

Snape felt his face flush. Harry looked up at him with disgust.

"N-n-no, I haven't." He scratched his greasy head. "Th-this is my student."

He gave Gladrags his best glare, hoping Julius wouldn't remember that he had brought Harry in when he was two, wondering why he had suggested in the first place this shop with all its memories...

"Hmm, I could have sworn this was your boy. Isn't yours dark haired with the greenest eyes you'd ever see?"

Snape tried to slow his breathing. When had he gotten to be so emotional? He glared at Harry and replied cooly, "This is the same boy but he is not my son. He's my student."

Gladrags sniffled. "I suppose it's none of my business."

As soon as he had shuffled away, Snape snorted. "That's right, old man. Absolutely none of your business." He looked over and was horrified to see Harry laughing silently.

He fixed a cold glare on Harry who sobered quickly.

Snape straightened the robes on the racks. He needed to hurry this meeting along and get Harry and himself back to Hogwarts where they could continue to ignore one another—at least for today.

"I asked you here for a reason, Potter," he said, his back still to Harry as he fiddled with the robes. Then he turned slowly, attempting to make his own robes billow for maximum effect. "McGonagall has informed me that you and your friends believe in the preposterous notion of the chamber of secrets."

Harry's eyes widened. "The what?"

Snape bit his tongue so he wouldn't curse. Clearly Hagrid wasn't the only one stupid enough to spill secrets to eleven-year-olds. "Never mind. Look at me, Potter...it doesn't exist."

"I know," Harry said much too readily. "I would never--"

Snape squinted at him. "I raised you for three years," he said quietly. "So don't lie to me."

Harry lowered his eyes and began twisting the sleeve on his robe. "I only want to know what is going on and no one will tell me."

"It's for your own good. You're too young." Harry nearly rolled his eyes, catching himself, and Snape thinned his lips. "You asked me once if I am fond of Professor Dumbledore. No, I am not. I think he coddles you and if you are to face the Dark Lord, then you must be prepared for it."

Harry thrust his chest out. "I can face him."

"Good, because you will." Snape chewed on his lip before realizing how vulnerable he must appear. "Professor Dumbledore will not tell you the truth and I believe he is making a grave error. So I propose this: you will meet me in my office once a week and I will explain everything he refuses to tell you."

He broke into a grin. "Brilliant."

"Sir," Snape reminded him. He ran his hands over his face trying to forget Harry's toothless grin many years ago. "And that will be all, Potter." He was embarrassed as soon as he said it: as though he had the power to banish a student from a public clothing shop. But Harry nodded and backed away, rushing out the door as soon as he could.

Gladrags started to hobble toward him.

"Not now, Gladrags," Snape said coldly, and with his robes flaring behind him, he swept out of the shop and headed to Hogwarts. He was sure he had made a huge mistake.


End file.
